B as in Blackmail
by ImpaledPrince
Summary: Haruhi Fujioka seems to be the sort of person who acts as a magnet for bad luck. What should have been a brief and entirely accidental visit to an eccentric after-school club turns into a debt that can't be easily repaid when she breaks a priceless object. The club she ends up indebted to in this version of events, though, is none other than the infamous Black Magic Club!
1. Same Shit, Different Timeline

Umehito Nekozawa was something of a riddle of a man, and that was just the way he preferred it. From the black wig which masked his Russian ancestry, to the delightfully comforting jet black and violet cloak which swaddled him like a newborn in a pitch-dark manger, he had lived his whole life in darkness. Cut off from those he didn't allow into his inner circle, cut off from normal cultural and societal mores, and deliberately severed from normality. But really, wasn't wanting to be abnormal kind of a normal desire in and of itself? Umehito had often felt that most others, especially most others in the ultra-insular nation that was present-day Japan, _wished_ they could live a life like his. All he had done was act on that most primal of urges. More primeval for a human than the need for food, sex, or the search for meaning, this was the urge to _withdraw_.

And yet, those who lived in darkness reached for the light. Umehito Nekozawa may have been loathe to admit it, but as much as the black comforted him, it also reminded him that he had not so much chosen to be different as he _was_ different. What would have been ideal to him might have been a medley of both light as well as dark. Not many children are born healthy but completely silent as they emerge from the womb, and it was as of yet a total anomaly that his sight in absolute blackness was if anything sharper than it was in adequate lighting. There were days when he felt he might not have been even human.

But again, that in itself was a very common human sentiment. And who other than a human would feel terrified at a possible fault in their humanity?

* * *

The Black Magic clubroom was something of a cross between a reliquary and any given wealthy teenager's bedroom if no one ever cleaned it. Numerous bolts of silk were stacked next to impossibly valuable relics of Persian kings or hung from the walls and ceiling, giving the whole place an ethereal quality sort of like walking through a waking dream. Someone here evidently loved to play with voodoo dolls, as many well-worn examples, their hides riddled with the marks of numerous old pinholes, lay on coffee tables or the arms of couches. The furnishings were of impeccable quality, at least, and the smell of exotic perfumes and something else which was sharper but not altogether unpleasant mixed into a positively alien sort of scent. The area certainly wasn't at a loss for floor coverings; there were so many rugs that the surplus examples had been crammed under chairs or used as improvised reading surfaces. It was a lavishly appointed place to visit, if nothing else. Not that you'd ever want to visit there.

"Has anyone seen a Deathstalker Scorpion crawling around?" a very slim teenage boy looking to be or about eighteen years old asked.

The boy's name was Tairana Itazura, and his hair was his most distinctive feature, dyed white with blond streaks. He was craning his willowy body this way and that, seeming determined to look under every nook and cranny. A nigh-impossible task, if he wanted to finish his search sometime this century.

"No I haven't" another young man, Ippan Hito, responded. He was a little shorter, and evidently hadn't chosen to dye his black hair another colour. "You shouldn't be bending like that, though, with your back problems. Wait, why do you want to know?"

"I…nothing."

Again, you really didn't want to visit there.

"You do realize if the school ever catches you with that, I'm disavowing any affiliation with you?" Takai Tanso asked the club prez, the illustrious Umehito Nekozawa, who was currently reclining on a pile of disused Renaissance tapestries with a bottle of Absolut vodka in hand. Mandarin Orange flavour, to be precise.

"You do realize I don't care?" Nekozawa shot back. "Heh. Heehee- _hurrg_. _Ah_ -ahem. Yes, but isn't it just a bit messed up?"

"What is?" Tanso sighed in response. The club's fifth member and only apparent female participant Reiko Kanazuki fiddled with her glasses as she put down her copy of The Shadow Out of Time, vaguely annoyed at the bickering she sensed was brewing.

"Yes, I suppose I should really have continued my sentence" the Slavic youth yawned, taking another swig before continuing. "I mean, isn't it weird how all you Japanese kids these days have your ecchi visual novels and such, and you act like that's perfectly normal, but your kind always freak out when I offer a kid a sip of hard liquor?"

"'My kind'? Wait, you've been offering kids alco-"

"It's a classic place of misplaced priorities!" Nekozawa exclaimed, throwing his hands around for emphasis and spraying a fair amount of vodka everywhere in the process. "Like I'm the bad guy or something."

"You _are_ the bad guy" Tanso sneered. "And you're also drunk. Give me that."

"I'm not drunk! If I'm drunk then you're…a jerk. A big jerk."

Once more: you really, really, _reallllllllly_ didn't want to visit the Black Magic clubroom, especially late after school had ended for the day and the members were up to Cthulhu knew what. It wasn't like the cub members were bad people, but even decent folk can be prone to trouble following them. Getting mixed up with the Black Magic Club was only a good idea if you hated normalcy and stability being prime factors in your life.

Unfortunately for scholarship student Haruhi Fujioka, she was as of now completely ignorant of that simple truth.

* * *

" _So many damn libraries, and every one of 'em jammed to capacity with the rich and languid. Honestly. If you don't want to study just go home_ " Haruhi fumed.

The dumpy-looking student adjusted her cheap wristwatch and sighed. Six o'clock, on the dot. She needed to get some reading in before she went home; unlike many of those here, her grades actually mattered to her. Haruhi hadn't been at Ouran Academy for all that long. She hadn't even joined any clubs, and she certainly didn't know where all the smart rich people did their studying. Assuming smart rich people even existed. However, salvation seemed to appear in the form of a boy and girl chatting aimlessly as they ambled down the hall.

"Excuse me. Do either of you know a quiet place where I can get some reading in?" Haruhi asked of the pair. "I tried the libraries but eh, that doesn't seem feasible."

"Oh, you know the stairwell opposite the end of the hallway facing the old music room?" the boy said as he walked past.

"Yes, yes I do."

"Go down there and take two lefts. It'll be the first door you see."

"Great! Thanks!" Haruhi exclaimed, rushing off to the aforementioned area.

The girl who had been talking with him stopped walking and eyed her conversational partner skeptically.

"Did you really just give that poor boy directions leading him straight to the Black Magic clubroom?" she asked.

"Yes. I believe I did" the young man said with an impish giggle.

"Honestly Hikaru, you are the worst" his feminine compatriot snickered in response.

Haruhi couldn't help but wonder what sort of room she was heading towards as she made the descent down the stairwell. When she finally reached the basement after travelling downwards for what felt like several minutes, it seemed to her that this part of the school seemed pretty ill-kept. As a matter of fact, the material and design of its construction looked a lot older than the rest of the fairly modern institute. Prewar, even. It made her wonder if maybe the basement was part of an older building that had been cannibalized into the layout of Ouran when it was built on top of it. Not that it really mattered, she supposed, just so long as it was a quiet place to read and review.

"Give that here! You've had enough!" a rather chagrined-sounding voice rang out from down the hall, followed by the sound of someone else laughing and a third person saying "Everyone shut up!"

" _Huh. This isn't boding well, now is it, Haruhi?_ " Haruhi ruminated. Still, it was worth finding out what the cause of all the commotion here was. She made her way towards the ebony-wood double doors at the end of the last turn, inhaling deeply before pushing said door open.

"It's a teacher! Shit, hide it somewh-oh. Oh, it's just a…damn. I almost had a heart attack" Nekozawa said as the door swung ajar, revealing a rather befuddled-looking Haruhi. He nonetheless put the cap on the bottle and rolled it behind a nearby couch in two deft motions.

"Um. Uh, er, h-hello" Hito said to the unexpected guest before turning his attention back to the lingerie catalogue in his hands. Reiko looked up at Haruhi and gave the girl a polite nod before focusing back on her comparatively more respectable reading material.

"Yeah, hi. So is this a place I can read or-? Cause I'm guessing it isn't" Haruhi mumbled half to the five who were present and half to herself as she entered the room. "Look, lemme start over from the beginning. I was told this was a good place to hit the books."

"Who told you that?" Nekozawa asked as he craned his body into an upright sitting positon, cocking an eyebrow in skepticism.

"Some weirdo with orange hair."

"Eheh" he sniggered. "Sounds like one of the twins."

"'The twins'?" Haruhi was so confused she felt like she'd wandered into a cross between a Monty Python sketch and a Twilight Zone episode.

"Forget about it" Itazura said to Haruhi with a flippant hand gesture. "Seriously, just ignore him and he'll lose interest."

"Um, okay?" the daughter of the Fujioka clan said back, smiling blankly due to the plain fact that she didn't know how else to respond to all this.

"At any rate, now that you're here, is there anything that the Black Magic Club can do for you?" Nekozawa inquired of her as he finally stood up. Haruhi was impressed by how tall he was, figuring he looked at least six feet.

"Well, what does the Black Magic Club do?" she asked.

Haruhi was quite pragmatically minded; even being a product of the superstitious culture of Japan and most of Asia in general, she had never been one for fortune-telling or horoscopes. Magic simply didn't interest her, for the simple reason that it all looked like a bunch of quite literal smoke and mirrors.

"Oh, what don't we do is the better question" Nekozawa beamed in response. The young man seemed incapable of showing teeth without leering. "Curses, hexes, witchcraft, voodoo, pagan rites, human sacrifi-ahem, anyway, you name it and we can do it."

"Can you conjure up a quiet place for me to study?" she sighed.

"Well, we could certainly form an extradimensional space completely cut off from the ordinary flow of time and the spatial fabric of our current dimension. Of course, getting you out would be quite impossible."

"Can you defeat the evil Lord Voldemort and bring peace to Middle Earth?" Haruhi requested with a wry grin.

"I uh, think you're getting your fantasy works mixed up" he coughed. The rest of the club members had gone back to their business by now, leaving Umehito to deal with the visitor. "But I can infer from your sarcasm that you think we're all just a bunch of charlatans, right?"

"Well now, apparently you _can_ make a correct prediction now and again."

"Ha. Well, are you familiar with the saying 'you shall not put God to the test'?" he asked, putting a forefinger to his lips as if telling himself to hold back a more venomous response.

"Wait. Doesn't that apply to Christianity?"

"It applies to magic too. It doesn't work unless you _tell yourself_ it will work."

"…That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Y'know what, I'm just gonna go now" Haruhi said as she began walking backwards towards the exit.

"Wait, no! Watch out for the-"

"For the-?"

 **CRASH**

"Uh-oh" Haruhi murmured as a cold sweat overtook her.

Not wanting to look behind her but knowing she'd have to eventually, she turned about. Lying on the floor was a now-overturned pedestal (which in an unwise move had been left out in the middle of the floorspace), and nearby was a broken canister which had been housing a piece of paper, now badly torn from the shattering of its rigid container.

"Well now. This just got interesting" Nekozawa fumed. He rubbed his temples in annoyance. "I feel a headache coming on."

"Oh, um. I'm so sorry! How much was-how much do I have to pay to replace that?" Haruhi asked, dreading the possible answer.

"You can't. It's a one-of-a-kind item, and the Unwritten Scroll is priceless."

"Priceless? It can't literally be priceless."

"Yes, well, it would have been worth only eight million yen yesterday to an interested collector, but today we realized it contained a map to the tomb of Kaw-T'ashad in the Tomb of Rotting Kings. So yeah, priceless, like it or not" Itazura said. Itazura seemed more amused than annoyed, though. A classic case of schadenfreude at work.

"Well maybe I could…wait did you say eight million yen…shit, um, I…I have no idea what I'm gonna do to get out of this." The lower-middle-class girl probably wouldn't see that much money in her entire high school career.

"Are you familiar with the Romanji letter 'B', Haruhi?" Nekozawa asked as a proverbial lightbulb lit up over his head. Haruhi didn't like his leer now. As in, more so than usual.

"Yes, I am. I get good grades in English."

"B as in baroque, b as in bleak, b as in bratwurst, and of course, b as in blackmail" he said, throwing his arms wide open before bringing them down gently on Haruhi's shoulders as he looked into her trademark oversized eyes.

"'B as in bratwurst?' she asked, more than a little confused.

"Yes, well, a fifth of vodka and my adroitness at alliteration agonizes" he said drowsily, rocking Haruhi's shoulders back and forward. "At any rate, our membership has been declining lately. No one wants to be a member of the Black Magic Club, it seems. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

"I really wish I didn't…"

"Your debt will be forgiven, Haruhi, if you consent to joining our little social club." He took his hands off the girl's shoulders and brought his palms together with a clap, fully confident in the way one can only be when they know their opposition has been completely backed into a corner.

"I can't help but have the feeling this happened somewhere else" Haruhi said after a moment's pause. The statement did surprise Nekozawa a little, he had to give her that.

"Basic quantum theory dictates that there are an infinite series of universes out there with infinite possibilities to them, Haruhi" he illuminated her. "It's quite possible that in one of them, something like this did indeed happen to you."

"Heh. So another Haruhi is out there suffering with me?"

"Well, yes, if you look at it that way. Makes you feel a little less alone, doesn't it?" Nekozawa smiled. Well, as far as his leers went it was close enough to a smile at least, if you squinted at it a little. "So, do we have a deal, mister-?"

"Yes we do. And my name is Haruhi, Haruhi Fujioka. And I'm a chick, just for the record." Haruhi relayed the information relating to her gender like she was reading the receipt for her weekly groceries.

"Wha-oh. _Oh_ " Nekozawa said, deeply embarrassed and realizing fully that the tables had been turned in regards to who was on the defensive. "Sorry, I, it's just you looked so much like a guy that I um…I'm just digging my own grave here, aren't I."

"Don't worry. It's not the first time that's happened. Heh. Probably won't be the last."


	2. The Real Fun Starts Tuesday

"You're _sure_ you're a girl now?" Itazura asked of Haruhi.

Haruhi didn't much like the implication of Itazura's statement, seeing as the boy had just finished measuring Haruhi for her cloak and other miscellaneous Black Magic ceremonial dress. The Fujioka girl had been informed by the man himself that Tairana Itazura loved to sew and was in fact the one who took care of all the club's robe-making and such. Hence the numerous bolts of silk and embroidery artistically sprawled all about the floor in a mark of artistic genius, or possibly just the mark of the unrestrained chaos that walked hand in sweaty hand with the habitual hangouts of teenage boys. In that sense the Black Magic Club wasn't really all that different from an athletic club or manga club.

"Uh, last time I checked, yes. Dare I ask?" Haruhi sneered, figuring an unpleasant answer to an unpleasant question was fair enough. She then deliberately put some distance between herself and Itazura, taking a seat across from Takai Tanso in a dining chair as she wearily slumped back. She had always found being measured or trying on clothes to be a rather bothersome chore.

"It's just that your bust measurement is non-existent."

"Gee. Thanks."

And it didn't help when the tailor was every bit as blunt as Haruhi Fujioka herself. Quite an impressive feat, that.

Haruhi examined the club member in front of her. Takai was sharpening an einar dagger of ornate appearance with a whetstone, although he had a perfectly serene expression on his face so Haruhi didn't worry he was about to go on a killing spree or anything. She had noticed Takai fiddling with several sharp objects during the time she'd been in here; at least it was a slightly saner area of interest for a teenage high schooler than guns, explosives, or narcotics. Probably.

She settled into the leather-padded chair and mused on the nature of all these recent happenings during the tail end of what had previously been a relatively not-terrible day. Her school days just couldn't be easy, or even tolerable, could they? Of course not. This seemed to be her lot on this dismal planet called Earth. No, instead she was being forced to sign up with a completely irrelevant, useless social club that could pose no possible benefit to her life. Her life, or anyone else's.

Things had started moving fast after Haruhi's assent to joining the club. Nekozawa had basically told her she was going to spend an extra half hour here getting fitted for her outfit; at least he was saying the club would foot the bill, otherwise this would basically be extortion. She half-jokingly wondered if Nekozawa had predicted the events leading to her coming here with a crystal ball or some-such and deliberately positioned that damn pedestal right where she would back into it.

But no. That would be stupid. And besides, in Haruhi's ever-humble opinion, "magic" was a load of hooey invented by those who hadn't yet learned to stop playing make-believe.

"You probably have quite a few questions about this place. About us" Takai said to the girl, pausing in his task when he noticed she seemed to be thinking about something.

"No, not really" Haruhi replied with her typical unintentional bluntness. To judge from the dull glaze in her eyes she didn't seem to realize that her disinterest had been expressed rather callously.

"Oh. Um, you're sure now?"

"Yep. Pretty much. Can I go now?" she asked as she turned to face Nekozawa. True to his earlier gripe, he seemed to be suffering from a headache as he reclined on a stack of fabrics and textiles. His shirt was hiked up a little due to the way his body was contorted backwards, and she numble thought that the resemblance his exceedingly pale skin bore to a ghost or corpse was quite fitting.

"Whagh-geg-yuh" he rattled rather unintelligibly. "Yeah, I mean, yeah. Just be quiet when you shut the door behind you; I'm still a little hungover from last night. Heh. So much for the 'hair of the dog' being a cure for that. _Urp_."

"is he gonna be alright? Should I send for a teacher?" Haruhi asked as she made for the exit.

" _Nooooo_ , no-no-no, _noooo_!" Hito stammered. Everyone else looked more than a bit unnerved too. "Don't do that. Seriously. Don't. And if you do we don't know anything about any…about anything. Nothing but good wholesome fun takes place here."

"'Good wholesome fun?' You've been reading porn mags all the while I've been here." Haruhi took a deep breath and wheezed in defeat. "Whatever. Have fun learning how to cast the Level 10 version of Magic Missile or whatever."

The inadvertent cross-dresser left the room, not bothering to heed Umehito's request about shutting the door gently. She was pretty pissed off though, so it was likely to be expected that she would have slammed it like that.

"So, whaddya you all think of him?" Nekozawa asked aloud once the mild aching in his head from the loud report had subsided.

"You mean 'her'" Itazura corrected him.

"What?"

"Haruhi said she was a girl, remember?" he sighed.

"Oh right" Nekozawa said. "I keep forgetting about trans people."

He pondered taking his belt off so he could tuck his shirt back into his pants but realized that may have looked a little odd, so he settled for continuing to lie in a more-or-less motionless pile. Lying there, he took in the serene sounds of Takai cussing loudly at the "made in China piece of shit" dagger that had just splintered in half against the whetstone.

"No, I mean I think she's actually a girl" Itazura said. His patience was rapidly wearing thin. "I was joking about her bust size and such, but her hips are-"

"Are you saying trans girls aren't actually female? Psssh. Bigot" Nekozawa said with barely contained cynicism.

"Ah, you're so adorable when you're being a king douche."

"You're all being completely insufferable. I'll take my leave now, if you don't mind" Reiko said. Her voice may have been sustaining its usual flat monotone, but she somehow yet managed to sound genuinely vexed.

"Yeah, yeah. Same time tomorrow?" Nekozawa probed.

"Yes, unless I've died or regained some grasp on my sanity."

Reiko Kanazuki methodically placed "The Shadow out of Time" back in her bookbag, to join her treasured original copies of "The White Ship" and "Sweet Ermengarde" from that most masterful of horror writers. She stood upright; to be precise, _perfectly_ upright, like a guard at Buckingham palace or more accurately a neurotic student of the occult. Reiko made her exit from the den of oddity that was the Black Magic clubroom, looking more like a prison matron or stern schoolteacher in her countenance than a girl who hadn't even experienced eighteen summers yet.

It didn't take long for her to realize something was up in regards to their new inductee. Reiko had scarcely made it a few meters up the stairwell when she was nearly bowled over by the girl in question bounding back down the stairs. As the two regained their footing, Haruhi stammered a query in between heavy breaths.

"R-reiko! I'm uh, heh, _h-hehhhh_ , um…have you seen my wallet?"

"You lost your wallet?"

"That is what I'm heavily implying, isn't it?" Haruhi scoffed, immediately seeming to regret her harsh tone if her guilty eyes were any indication. "Look, sorry, I'm just really bugging out over this. It doesn't have much money in it but it does have my rail pass for the train."

"My, that is a problem" Reiko responded. "Do you often lose your wallet in a particular spot?"

"Oh yeah, I just haven't looked there cause it's the most obvious damn place I could have looked!" Haruhi wanted to scream those words, she really did, although she settled for declaring them in the same tenor she would read an eviction notice or arrest warrant. "…Sorry, sorry. I'm just really, really, really aggravated. I don't know how I'm gonna get home."

"My chauffer's outside" Reiko said. "Is your house very far from here?"

"No it isn't." The gears in her head began to turn and Haruhi was treated to her first pleasant surprise of the day. "Wait, are you offering me a ride?"

"It could save you a bit of hike."

"Oh, wow" Haruhi grinned sheepishly, scratching one of her biceps to distract herself from how indebted she felt. "Thanks. I feel like a jerk now for being all bent outta shape."

Reiko smiled in reaction, the first time Haruhi had seen the resigned girl show such an open display of a positive emotion. Haruhi wondered if maybe she herself often showed a variation of that same brooding passivity.

"No, I know people better than to take it personally" Reiko said. She stifled a yawn with her palm before continuing. "Plus, it might give us a moment we could use to chat about this and that. I overheard what you said earlier, but even if you don't think you have any queries, there are some things about the Black Magic Club and our most beloved president that you may find intriguing."

"Well, listening to whatever you have to say is the least I can do. I'm in."

The walk to the parking lot outside passed quickly, despite the slightly awkward atmosphere. Haruhi wondered what type of vehicle would be waiting for them. No doubt expensive, and probably black, or possibly white. It did indeed turn out to be a white sedan, but to her surprise it was a Lexus; despite the fact that Lexus was a Japanese brand, as a general rule it wasn't as popular in Japan proper when compared to foreign brands of luxury cars like Rolls-Royce or Mercedes-Benz.

Once they were inside the vehicle and the chauffeur had pulled out of the lot into the adjacent private thoroughfare after getting directions from Haruhi, Reiko opened her mouth as if to say something. After a ten-minute pause, during which there were no forthcoming statements, she let out a slight giggle instead and crossed one leg over the over as she leaned back in the spacious back seat of the car.

"I really don't know where to begin" she said at last.

"So this is the part where you tell me you're planning a ritual murder or something, right?" Haruhi snickered. Reiko cackled so hard in response she practically teared up.

"You'll fit in very well with a wry sense of humour like that, darling. But in all seriousness, the Black Magic Club really isn't so bad." Reiko Kanazuki curled her fingers into a cup shape under her angular chin, stifling another yawn. She then pinched her cheek with her free hand in a vain effort to stay awake before carrying on. "We're like all the other clubs, really, in that we only do what we do because it keeps us busy and gives us an opportunity to hang out."

"Yeah. Maybe this won't be so bad."

"Heh, were you saying that to me or you?" Reiko sniggered.

A distant peal of thunder reminded the pair of the abysmal overnight weather forecast. Fortunately, Haruhi wouldn't have to go out tonight since the week's shopping had been taken care of on Wednesday. She hoped a thunderstorm wouldn't start in earnest any time soon, given her often severe astraphobia. As for Reiko, she was in such a privileged position that if she didn't want to go outside none of her servants or retainers were going to challenge her. Not if they wanted to keep their jobs, at any rate.

"Me. I was talking to myself, I guess" Haruhi illuminated her. "So, what can you tell me about that pale skeleton you have for a club president?"

"Uh…that's gonna take some explaining. That's what I was hoping to discuss with you, actually." Reiko seemed a tad anxious. More than a tad, truthfully. This was clearly the part of the conversation she'd been itching to get to even if she was dreading it more than anything else.

"Why do I suddenly feel like my life is in danger?" Haruhi said, hoping to defuse the sudden tense atmosphere with her usual black comedy.

"Your life? No, not your life. At most maybe your soul. But your life? Don't worry" Rieko said in a rather stream-of-consciousness manner, apparently having missed the obvious jest. "At any rate, on to the matter at hand. Nekozawa is a very strange man. The thing is, while the other members of the club, myself included, were just occult freaks who desperately wanted to pretend they had some degree of magical power…what I'm about to say might be difficult to accept. But Umehito is the real deal. A 'Volshebnik', or in common speak, a Magician."

"Well, that's interesting alright." The sensation of the car running over a pothole somehow felt like a fitting punctuation to the dull thud of an impact that Rieko's revelation had.

"I know you don't think this is something that can be taken seriously. And I don't blame you. But you'll see in time" the senior Black Magic member sighed.

"Pffft. Did you _mean_ for that to sound so ominous?"

"Heheh. Maybe, maybe" Rieko smirked. Her expression rapidly melted back to its usual stoic glare, though. "There is one other anomaly I'd like to bring up while we're on the subject, though. The Nekozawa family, they're cursed, to put it bluntly. A child from that clan who is both born and borne of darkness, such as Umehito, will die on his twentieth birthday. It has always been this way."

"Wait, he's how old?"

"Eighteen" Rieko informed her. Haruhi might have been imagining it, but it sounded like there was real pain in her voice's timbre when she had stated that solitary, single word.

"So he has, at most, two years to live" Haruhi said, just to make sure she was understanding everything.

"Basically, yes."

"I find all this a little hard to accept."

"Again, I don't blame you. I am a patient hunter though, so to speak" Rieko said before slapping herself in the face. "Sorry about that, just trying to keep from falling asleep. Anyhow, what I mean is that I am content to wait and allow time to reveal what I can't show you at this given moment."

"…You mean you'll deliberately wait for him to die, just to prove to me that he was going to die?" Haruhi questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe not like that. But I'm sure you get the general gist what I'm saying. There are other strange secrets the Black Magic Club holds, but I'll leave it to you to unearth them in your own time."

"Try me. What's one of them?" Haruhi asked.

"Remember when Nise Norei transferred out of your class a week back or so?" Reiko said.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Do you want to find out what really happened to him?" she continued.

"Okay, _now_ I'm positive you're just making stuff up" Haruhi said, eyeing the prim upperclassman skeptically.

"Hmm. Indeed, I am" Reiko said, a mischievous grin on her face as the sedan pulled up to the exterior of Haruhi's public housing unit. Haruhi swung open the door on her side, and as she stepped out of the vehicle Reiko waved her goodbyes.

"I won't keep you" Reiko called after her. "Get a good night's sleep. The real fun starts tomorrow."

"It does?" Haruhi said, stopping dead in her tracks. "Cause tomorrow's Saturday."

"Oh. Right. Ahem, well the real fun starts Monday."

"Monday is Showa Day. I'm positive we won't have school."

"Um, yeah. Well, goodnight, anyway."


	3. Real Rock and Roll

"You're home late."

She'd been expecting that. What Haruhi _hadn't_ been expecting was for her fey father to not be a caterwauling mess. He seemed remarkably composed, all things considered, even if there was candid worry on his face. Ranka Fujioka had also evidently not been doing all that much while waiting for her to get home, since he was sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, turned to face the door. It made Haruhi wonder for a moment if she was going to get in trouble. Not like she really cared. She'd already gotten into more than a bit of trouble recently, so one more strike against her existence likely wasn't going to upset things.

"Yep. I guess I am, aren't I" Haruhi sighed, the exhalation adding to the inadvertent brusqueness of the statement.

She immediately realized that may have sounded harsh, and she was about to apologize but she opted to let out a second, longer sigh instead. She muttered something incomprehensible under her breath as she took off her shoes before stepping into the main room. Haruhi was too damn tired to be walking on eggshells.

"Something happen?" Ranka asked.

She noticed his hands were instinctively curled into the shape they'd be in if he were taking a drag from a cigarette; although he hadn't smoked _that_ sort of fag in a good five years, it seemed that muscle memory was something which was difficult to forget once it had been ingrained. She truthfully wouldn't have judged him if he had three-quarters of a pack crammed into his mouth when she'd come in. It would in all honesty have been preferable for such a temperamental man to be a little sedated in a situation like this.

"Yes. I mean no. I mean-never mind." Haruhi had felt like she'd aged half a year in the span of less than a day. "I just wanna go to bed."

"You know I was getting worried. You do know that, don't you?" Ranka said as he stood up.

He was still wearing the expensive womanly attire he dolled himself up in for his work at the bar, and it occurred to Haruhi that this meant he hadn't even taken a moment to change whilst no doubt agonising over her the entire time. As for Ranka himself, he was examined her visage for something (what is was, she had no idea), and when he didn't seem to detect it he went on.

"I would have sent you a text but I've been making a conscious effort not to helicopter as much."

"Thanks" Haruhi said, gifting her dad a weak smile. "I appreciate it. If you'd started getting hysterical it just would have just been one more thorn in my side."

"Something _did_ happen then."

The flickering of the nearly-dead lightbulb overhead cast a backlight over Ranka, registering to Haruhi's eyes as humorously similar to the lighting manga characters were drawn in when shocked or surprised. She might have even laughed if she weren't so annoyed. Of course, Haruhi was mildly vexed for most of her waking hours, but still. It was the _principle_ of the thing. Call it self-spite, but she wasn't going to allow herself to find comedy in such a mundane, stupid little thing when she could instead be focusing on simply drifting off to sleep on her futon.

"Y'think? Look, it was just a bad day, alright?" she said in a half-lie. "And since it's come and gone there's not anything either of us can really do about it. If you really…if you really want to make me feel better-"

"Yes?" Ranka asked.

He had approached Haruhi and positioned himself uncomfortably close into her personal space while she was talking. The sight of the fretful dad standing next to his weary and slightly cynical daughter would have struck many parents as an entertaining role reversal.

"Do what you did today" she elaborated.

"Huh?"

"Today I came home late and you didn't freak out. Not completely, at any rate" Haruhi explained. "Just keep doing that. Please, for the love of my sanity, _bear that in mind_. The reason I'm asking that of you is because I've joined a club, so I'll be coming home 'late' every day for the foreseeable future."

"You joined a club?" This was a bit of a revelation, although Ranka had to remind himself that it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. "Which one? You're not one to do things on the spur of the moment."

"Ha. True. Very, _very_ true, Dad. Eh, it's a little complicated. As for the club itself…they're a bunch of weirdos." Haruhi looked like she wanted to punch someone. Ranka felt pretty confident it wasn't him, though.

"Well then. You'll fit in well, don't you think?" he said, shifting his legs.

"Wha?"

"You may not realize it Haruhi, but you're a very strange girl."

He grinned, the same sly grin she had seen on the faces of those in the clubroom. Particularly Umehito Nekozawa. The forced remembrance sent a brief shudder down her spine. Ranka for his part was evidently oblivious as to how his comment had brought back these unpleasant memories, which his daughter was practically making a conscious effort to repress.

"Just so long as they're weirdos of the harmless variety like you I'm actually not concerned" Ranka continued.

"It's a little surreal being called a weirdo by my dad while he's in full drag and makeup" Haruhi said in retort, just barely managing to supress the act of shouting.

"Glass houses, Haruhi."

"I don't _deliberately_ try to make people think I'm a boy!" This time she really did raise her voice. Not a soft exclamation either, but a full-on yell. She recovered quickly, at least.

"Look, I'm going to bed. Could you turn off some of the lights? I can't sleep when they're all on."

"Yeah. Yeah, sure" Ranka said absentmindedly.

As Haruhi headed for the washroom to change into her customary sleepwear of t-shirt and shorts, Ranka sat back down in the Worrying Chair. He really did have a strange daughter. Sometimes he wondered just where she picked up her boyish perceptions. Then again, he supposed it was more than a little strange on his end, how he'd always wanted Haruhi to be distinctly feminine in her tastes and dress when he had never been a pinnacle of masculinity himself, to say the least. Reap what you sow, and all that.

A few seconds later he caught the sound of Haruhi talking to herself in the adjacent bathroom. Something about "outcasts for good reason", "rich pricks", and several words which were far too filthy too repeat. Ranka had to tell himself to tune out of her soliloquy. It was basically just as bad as listening in on any conversation you weren't a part of.

" _I just want that girl to be happy_."

Ranka buried his head in his hands, a strange sort of embarrassed-proud smile on his face. He knew the only reason he hovered and obsessed over Haruhi was simply because he loved that girl more than the rest of the world a hundredfold.

* * *

 _This is real rock and roll, because rock and roll is all about rebellion._

Few would have guessed that would be the sentiment Umehito Nekozawa would be mulling over at 11:16 PM in his pitch-dark, mostly empty bedroom. The declaration may have made a little more sense if one knew that he had an instrument in his hands at that moment. An Ibanez guitar, of the appropriately pricy Prestige line, made right there in Japan. Umehito loved messing around with weird pitch harmonics and melody structures. Others may not have shared in his assessment that technical skill was no substitute for organic talent and ingenuity, but then again Nekozawa had no grand dreams of being a rock star. As a guitarist and vocalist he was merely competent. Of course, meant that he could still easily play or sing basically any song on the radio just as well as the original artist, which was a somewhat sad statement on the current talent levels in popular music.

He locked at the grandfather clock positioned against the wall opposite his current facing and figured he should get some rest. Or try and fail to fall asleep for several hours before basically passing out, rather, since Nekozawa had suffered from chronic insomnia from a very young age. He set the instrument back on its display bracket and made his way to the foot of his bed before flopping face-first onto the mattress. Nekozawa wondered if this sleeplessness were a manifestation of his curse. He did think that, from time to time.

 _Insomnia is a curse all it's own, of course._

Right. His curse. But it could be worse. He could have been stillborn, and that would have been the end of it. No light, no dark, nothing but the yawning abyss. Or more likely, he could have lived out a reasonably full life in abject poverty, or at best as a faceless drone of the middle class. Where would be the fun in that? In a way, maybe he was blessed. He would never grow old and feel his mind and body deteriorate. He wouldn't see good friends die and be forgotten in a foreshadowing of what would happen to himself when he too passed away.

 _Immortality is a curse all it's own._

Out of everyone who could have been dictated to die young, maybe it was best that such a calamity would befall a young man who loved death. He wormed his lithe body into the Egyptian cotton sheets whilst an old quote popped into his mind.

" _For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause"._

Umehito tossed and turned, as he knew he would for much of the night, while his overactive mind formed a counterpoint.

 _William, if only you knew how pretentious you'd sound four centuries later._

What else was new. Nothing, the answer was that nothing was new. Better to die than to live on this boring, bland, _tepid_ planet. Actually, that wasn't quite true, he supposed to himself. He didn't know what to make of his club's newest, definitely-not-coerced-into-it member. She seemed…kind of pissed. Irritated about everything and nothing at the same time, probably dissatisfied with society in general and with no specific plan for her future. And yet Haruhi obviously had drive and wit to her skepticism, preventing it from being just generic melancholy. At any rate she didn't seem like just another typical malcontent with no friends who'd spend her free time trying to find decensored yaoi on the Internet.

This would be interesting, if nothing else. Actually, that was good news in and of itself.

 _Haruhi Fujioka. What makes you tick?_

* * *

The weekend passed uneventfully for Haruhi, which was nothing less than a heaven-sent blessing as far as she was concerned. Monday went by in much the same way; like many holidays, time seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. And before she knew it, she was back in school. Haruhi had the vague suspicion that she'd forgotten something critical as she made her way from class to class, but that was irrelevant. It must have just been one of those days where her memory wasn't at its usual capacity, because she'd even forgotten why she'd been so restrained about going back to Ouran.

It was right after her post-lunch class now. One more to go and her day would be finished, and she could go home. Home, to her loving if rather oddball dad and just as importantly her bed and the TV. At the present moment she was taking a route she'd discovered through one of the disused hallways on the south end of the building. Ordinarily it wouldn't be much of a shortcut, but the common corridors got so flooded with students at this time that trying to get through them was about as speedy as wading through waist-high maple syrup.

" _Hello,_ Fujioka."

Oh. Oh, right. There was that.

"How's the day treating you?" Nekozawa asked of the girl.

The guy must have coated the soles of his shoes in India rubber or something; she hadn't even heard him sneak up behind her. Had he been stalking her since her last class, waiting until the two were alone in this big empty hallway? She dearly hoped not. That would creepy, even for him.

"The day's treating me fine. _Was_ treating me fine."

"I was worried you'd have some residual resentment" he said, frowning but obviously trying to keep himself from smiling in pseudo-sadistic delight. "But you are expected to attend club activities. Plus, we've got your attire all ready to go."

"What? That fast?" She was impressed, even if she'd rather not be.

"Itazura was apparently up all night for the duration of the whole weekend finishing it. When that gi-when that guy starts something he can't stop until he finishes it." He paused, considering that last point he'd just made before continuing with, "…which isn't actually all that much of an attribute, I suppose."

"I…I have to come, right?" Haruhi asked. She knew what the answer would be, but she figured asking anyway couldn't hurt. There was probably a one in a million chance that Nekozawa would say no, and a one in ten trillion chance that she would have a stroke right now and be reincarnated as someone or something with a more favourable degree of luck.

"I think you'll like it" he replied, the unspoken assumption being "Yes, definitely."

Umehito seemed to discern the fact that Haruhi looked like she wished she was anywhere else at that moment, because he coughed for effect before saying something that he hoped would be an agreeable surprise.

"We're having a bit of a small welcoming party for you."

"You are?" she asked, her eyes widening as she realized something that didn't add up. "Again, less than four days later? Do you guys function on a different interval of time or something?"

"Heh. You'll learn about temporal magics in due course." He paused, hoping that she'd ask him to enlighten her about such sorcery. When it became apparent that no such thing was happening he coughed again, more awkwardly this time, and went on with the original subject matter. "But truthfully, the answer is more along the lines of money being able to accomplish nearly anything."

"It's not anything overly ornate or elaborate, is it? I just feel terribly uncomfortable at high-class gatherings."

"Oh! Don't worry. Very low-key, punch and cookies, stuff like that" he said, hoping to assuage her at least a modicum.

"I suppose that doesn't sound too bad. In theory" Haruhi admitted.

"So, I can count you in to show up then?"

Haruhi rolled her eyes and likewise rolled up her sleeves, making Nekozawa fleetingly wonder if she was about to sock him. Instead she just cleaned off her glasses on the cuff of each sleeve before speaking again.

"I'm sort of indebted to, remember." She really didn't even know why he'd bothered asking.

"Beautiful!" Nekozwaa said, rocking her shoulders back and forth with his wiry hands. He seemed to like doing that. "Right after your last class. You know the place."

"Oh, and Nekozawa-"

"Yessssss?" he said. If he leered any more Haruhi felt his grin would achieve critical mass and become a black hole.

"How'd you know to find me here?"

"Huh? It's just coincidence that I saw you here, actually. I thought I was the only one who came out this way. The route I would ordinarily take to my chemistry class has far too much natural light pouring through those damned bay windows" he clarified.

"Ah. Shoulda figured it'd be something weird but innocuous like that" Haruhi said, remembering her father's words about the harmless variety of weirdo. She really couldn't help but feel slightly freaked out that she may have been grouped in the same selection of persons as the Black Magic Club.

But then, of course, she really _was_ one of their lot now, wasn't she. Wasn't she?

"Are you what?" Nekozawa asked.

"I said that out loud?" Haruhi asked back.

"Um, yes. Didn't you mean to?" he inquired, rather perplexed.

"Nothing, forget about it. See you after school."


	4. A Vampire or Cultist

**B as in Blackmail**

 **Part Four – A Vampire or Cultist**

" _Maybe this won't be so bad, maybe it'll be fine_ " Haruhi supposed to herself as she deliberately made her way down the steps leading to the basement as gradually as possible. Any slower, and she'd be walking backwards. " _And maybe they'll even understand if I say I don't want to stay more than a few minutes. And maybe…maybe, maybe, maybe, I can fly to the moon if I flap my arms hard enough. Just about as likely. Heh. Ehehehe…ugh._ "

The corridor leading to those damned ebony-wood doors flitted by depressingly fast, and before she had even had the chance to collect herself or take a deep breath or maybe cuss providence out a little for this shovelful of garbage her life had deposited directly on her feet, the doors swung open. Standing there in the metaphorical abyss beyond were her clubmates, including the club president who had opened said door; she was relieved at least to see they were still wearing their usual outfits. If this had been a suit and tie affair her frumpy clothes would have stuck out pathetically.

"Told you she'd be here" Takai said, elbowing Ippan in the ribs more than a little roughly for an affectionate nudge.

"Yeah yeah. I'll pay you back later" Ippan responded. He tried to elbow Takai back but such an action had been expected and his blow was easily dodged. He adjusted his collar awkwardly before going on. "My wallet's, um, it's uh, getting cleaned."

"Knowing you, I don't doubt it" Takai scoffed.

"That didn't make any sense."

"All of you shut up. Except you, Fujioka" Nekozawa said as he practically slid up towards the poor inductee. Which was a minor accomplishment in and of itself, seeing as the floor was absolutely blanketed with irregularly spaced lumpy rugs and tapestries. "I'm more than a little interested in answering any questions our newest member. Or we can talk business another time, if that's what you'd prefer."

"Um, the second option. I'm just a bit 'eghhhh' right now, y'know?" Haruhi sighed. She thought about putting on as depressed an expression as possible to maybe squeeze some pity out of them. Then she realized she didn't need to act depressed; she was genuinely languid and of sorts right now, so all she'd really have to do would be herself.

"I just wanna sit down and relax" she yawned, flopping down onto the handiest lounge chair before anyone had even had the chance to respond. "You got anything to drink?"

"Oh, yes! Yes, of course" Nekozawa said, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "Now, when you say 'drink', do you mean alcohol?"

"What?" Haruhi asked. She was pretty sure she must have just imagined his response, but then again she wasn't typically one to have short-lived auditory hallucinations.

"Wha-? Oh" Nekozawa murmured before continuing cumbersomely. "Um, because we definitely don't have any, and if we do, it must've been left here by somebody else."

"Um, okay" she said slowly, not quite certain what to make of that. "Wait, who else comes down here anywa-"

As Haruhi was speaking, Takai Tanso moseyed on over to Reiko and leaned in close so she could hear him whisper.

"One of these days he's gonna slip up and get caught with twelve metric tons of red wine in his locker or something."

Reiko curbed a snicker and covertly bobbed her head in agreement whilst Nekozawa went on talking.

"But seriously, we've got a few things" Umehito said.

He gestured to a sewing table which had been cleared off and been stocked with the basics: a couple dozen cans of soda, a pitcher of lemonade and another one of punch, and several plates of confectionaries and other assorted sweet things. Haruhi was relieved that all these examples of foodstuffs were easily recognizable to her, although she was sure they'd all been made for ten times the what they should have cost by all rights, in some overpriced restaurant with GMO-free organic ingredients or something along those lines.

"Thanks" she said before turning to Ippan. "Hey, what's your name again?"

"Me?" he asked, pointing to himself.

"Yeah."

"I'm Hito, Ippan Hito."

"Can you get me a glass of lemonade, Hito?" she asked, her no-nonsense eyes indicating he had better do as he was told.

"You heard her, _Hito_ " Takai smirked as he jabbed his clubmate in the ribs once more for good measure.

While Ippan muttered something about revenge on the world of a grand scale, Haruhi rested her head on the backrest of the chair for a few seconds before speaking again.

"So, not to be rude, but just so I'm clear, this sorta thing is all that'll be going on here most days I come in? Right?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" Itazura questioned. He had been hovering around his pile of repositioned sewing supplies like a mother hawk around her eggs.

"I mean, like, you don't actually spend an inordinate amount of time obsessed with the pursuit of magic, is what I'm getting at."

Takai didn't feel this was a good omen in regards to how well Haruhi was going to assimilate with this odd little group. He dearly hoped his new clubmate didn't go insane by the end of the week.

"I hate to disappoint you on your first real day here, but we do take ourselves relatively seriously" Itazura informed her. "This, of course, is tempered by the fact that we're just a bunch of kids at the end of the day."

"And how seriously is seriously?" Haruhi asked, holding out a hand to accept the glass of lemonade that Ippan had brought over to her.

"There are still people who believe in the supernatural" Nekozawa said as he rustled Haruhi's short, perpetually-mussy hair from behind the chair. Haruhi reflected that what he'd just said was disconcertingly appropriate, because the way he had disappeared from her field of vision without her noticing and then somehow snuck up behind her was more than slightly freaky. "I know because I am one of them."

"Oh?" Haruhi said. "Um, and could you please let go of my head."

"Ah, yes, of course" Nekozawa acquiesced. He shifted his lithe form around to the side of the chair, soundless in his movement as any specter or wraith. "Anyhoo. The more that society becomes obsessed with the pragmatic, ephemeral, and _quantifiable_ , the more people become dissatisfied with what they can feel against their skin or taste on their lips. That's why there's something of a renaissance of the eldritch in modern-day Japan. Somewhat ironic, to be sure."

"So, you're saying that the more hard-headed a culture becomes, the more it rebels against that pragmatism?" Haruhi said. She was relieved to find that Nekozawa had at least seemed to give a bit of effort in developing his ideals.

"Precisely."

"And what if a group of people go in the opposite direction, becoming flighty and less interested in principles of certainty?" she asked.

"Then they too will become gripped with a desire for mysticism and the spiritual" he said with a shrug.

"So no matter what happens, people will always be stupid" Haruhi said, before giggling a tad and saying, "Actually, that does sound about right."

"Hehe- _heee_. Eh" Umehito sighed, turning his back to the girl and opening his arms wide as if to embrace his twisted view of humankind. "It'll be fun, fun, _funnnn_ to have someone in our little club who can counterbalance with everyone else."

"Yeah. Say, do you have some sort of brain problem?" she asked, for once realizing her bluntness may have seemed a touch devoid of tact but not really caring at this point anyway. Plus, Nekozawa seemed strange but fundamentally harmless, so even if her question made him ticked off he probably wouldn't go all Ed Gein and make her skin into furniture or something.

"No, actually!" he chuckled. "A bit surprising, I know. Some of the craziest people in humanity's sorry history had perfectly healthy minds…in concept, if not in execution."

"Ahem" Itazura spoke calmly, prior to coughing twice in a failed bid to draw attention.

"For instance, most serial killers score very high on IQ tests-"

" _Ahem!_ " the ordinarily sedate Itazura said in a noticeably less demure tone, which finally succeeded in getting the notice of those present. "Now that I've gotten your attention, I do believe there is an important part of Haruhi's induction that I have a vested interest in."

"Which is?" Ippan inquired.

"It involves a labor of love from yours truly. Ring any bells?" Itazura smiled.

"Not really."

"That's because you're a goddamn idiot" he sneered, before tilting his head in Haruhi's direction and locking eyes. He did an impish little eyebrow wiggle before elaborating, "I'm talking about her outfit."

"Er, I actually had a couple questions about that" Haruhi said. She stood up, both to stretch her legs and put her empty glass back on the table. "Will I be able to wear my ordinary clothes underneath it at all? And is it excessively frilly or the like? I don't really feel all that comfortable wearing girly stuff."

"Here, let me take that" Itazura said. He took the vacant glass and set it on the arm of a convenient dining chair. "We're not fancy here, just leave your trash wherever you like."

Haruhi Fujioka exhaled and looked Itazura up and down, as if searching for an answer to her earlier question in the similarly androgynous boy's appearance. Itazura didn't seem to notice, or at the very least didn't seem to care, because he drifted away from Fujioka and made his way to one of the countless heaps of assorted priceless detritus that had accumulated in the corners of the square-shaped chamber.

"Yeah, so about the frilliness and other assorted worries I had about my uniform, are you going to answer me or-?"

"Ah-ah-ah, I anticipated such concerns. In regards to your first question, the outfit, which is-dammit, _where'd I_ -" Itazura said, sifting through a pile of robes that looked halfway between anime cosplay and Mediterranean royalty. "-anyway, the outfit comes with a rather masculine suit which you'll wear beneath it. It's just that baggy sweaters and jeans kind of clash with the image we're trying to project, you see. The rest of your attire is similarly gender-neutral, if I could just…heeere we go."

Tairana Itazura cast aside several obscuring bolts of fabric and long-sleeved dresses, bringing to light what Haruhi had to admit was a rather sharp-looking outfit. It was kind of similar to the suit Nekozawa wore in that it comprised black slacks, a black vest, and a silk shirt (black, though, where Umehito's was white) with voluminously ruffled cuffs. This was paired with simple black dress shoes, a violet ascot, a black leather belt with a buckle which looked to be made of either gold or polished electrum, and cufflinks in the shape of an arrangement of four overlapping diamonds. Some occult symbol, no doubt.

As for the regalia meant to serve as supplementary adornment, it looked unnecessary in its ornamentation to Haruhi's relentlessly practical eyes. All the same she was far from blind to its impeccable craftsmanship and design. Essentially it was a robe, unsurprisingly, violet in colour with bright blue trimming. Its spacious hood also bore an eye emblazoned in red thread upon its surface, and as one final touch, a series of looping blue cloth ribbons which wrapped around the approximate waistline of the get-up.

"You made all this?" Haruhi asked, inching towards the outfit, lying in the pile as if in repose. It looked fancy, extravagant, and expensive. She couldn't help but feel like a common face in the crowd like herself wasn't meant to wear something this nice.

"Yep. Except for the shoes and belt. So, whaddy think?" Itazura asked, clearly fishing for compliments.

"And don't forget to tell her that as a club member she'll get a forty-percent discount on all magical trinkets and curious, including jewelry" Nekozawa said.

He took a sip from the tumbler of punch he'd poured himself, all the while hoping no one had seen him pour a couple ounces of grain alcohol into his glass. He had justified it by telling himself it wasn't like he had spiked the entire pitcher or anything.

"You, uh, you kind of just did right now by saying that" Reiko enlightened him.

"Oh. Yes, yes, I suppose I did" he grinned. "So Haruhi, we'd love to see how you look, 'rocking your duds' as you young people say. But seriously, there's a partitioned divider over there. Y'see it? That corner-no, the other corner, yeah, that one there. We use that as a changing area, just get dressed behind it. Don't worry, if I find out later that Ippan installed a hidden camera there I'll promise to murder him."

"Heh, okay" Haruhi smirked.

Itazura meticulously picked up the assortment of clothing and handed it to Haruhi in a neat stack. He was really looking forward to seeing his new custom-made ceremonial dress on yet another person. Itazura had initially felt it was a bit harsh of Umehito to basically force Haruhi to join their mishmash of misfits, but he couldn't deny that it would be great to have someone else to make outfits for. He may have gotten a great degree of enjoyment from wearing his own handiwork, and he had even cosplayed now and again, but what gave Itazura his greatest pleasure was designing apparel for others.

"Oh come on, even I wouldn't do that" Ippan said, albeit after pausing for a suspiciously long duration. "Plus, until recently four-fifths of the club was male. I'm not into that."

"With your personality you can't really afford to be that picky. I think you and Takai would make a lovely family" Reiko sneered.

"Hey, leave me outta this" Takai Tanso said, holding his hands up as if to ward off the unpleasant mental image he was getting.

"Yeah, I'm just gonna get changed now" Haruhi said while she headed for the divider. Although the others weren't really listening to her anymore at this point, having devolved into the typical "I'm not gay you're gay" debate that seemed ubiquitous to high schools the world over.

"-and that's why solitaire should be an Olympic sport!" Nekozawa declared. It was by now glaringly obvious to the others present that he was drunk. Sometimes it almost seemed like it was just his natural state of being to be saying some sort of incoherent rambling gibberish.

"Guys? Um, I'm wearing the ensemble" Haruhi said as she stepped out from behind the partition. "Tell me if I didn't put something on properly."

Haruhi Fujioka's natural quiet dignity blended quite well with the otherworldly airs of the garb she had on. She looked a bit like a vampire from a dark fantasy RPG, or possibly a cultist from some secret order of the high society.

"Mister…er, I mean Miss Fujioka" Nekozawa started saying. "Wait, do you prefer mister or miss?"

"Either one's fine. It doesn't really matter either way to me."

"Very well then" he said, grinning ear-to-ear. "Miss Fujioka, you're looking quite dashing. If you were a man I'd be feeling very confused right now."

"Uh, okay-?"

"Kidding, kidding" he sniggered. "I don't swing that way."

"I don't really think we need to have _that_ conversation again, _Umehito_ " Itazura hissed to the club president. "But Haruhi, I do agree with his general assessment. You look great!"

"Yeah, so I only have to wear this here, right?" Haruhi asked.

"If by 'here' you mean 'here at Ouran', yes" Nekozawa informed her.

"Wait, always?"

"Well, always while you're at Ouran. Obviously you don't have to wear it at home or on weekends or anything."

"And if I don't?" she asked, sighing heavily for effect.

"You did sign a contract, Haruhi. Never sign a contract without reading the fine print" he said, approaching her with his body swaying from side to side like a paper fan in front of an AC duct.

"I hate to break it to you, but I'm pretty sure I don't remember signing a contract" she said.

"Oh, right. Uh, figure of speech?"

"'You signed a contract' is a figure of speech? What?" she asked, even laughing a little at the utter absurdity of the situation. "What are we even talking about, this is all so confusing to me."

"Look, just wear it" he pleaded. "Okay? Please? Itazura spent a lot of time working on that stuff; do it for him if not me."

"Alright, alright, fine" she granted. "So, any other business to attend to?"

"Are you a good singer?" he asked. Haruhi didn't know where he was going with this, but figured being honest was probably the best policy.

"I quite literally suck out loud."

"Perfect!" he exclaimed, with his accent rather pronounced for some reason unknown to her. "We've got a karaoke machine lying around here somewhere."

"I'll go look for it. Ippan, give me a hand" Takai said as he began rummaging through the pile Haruhi's outfit had been in.

"Didn't you hear me?" Haruhi asked in a rather puzzled manner. "I said I sucked."

"Ah, but. _But_ " Nekozawa leered. "Karaoke is funny. The more amateurish you are, the more fun it is. I _eagerly_ await hearing you butcher the latest Top 40, Fujioka."


	5. Basic Principles

Karaoke is best enjoyed when you are either at a best friend's wedding and about to get completely drunk, or at an office party where you are already drunk. But basically you need to be drunk. And the only one who was even somewhat inebriated here in the Black Magic clubroom was Umehito Nekozawa. Fortunately, he had already consumed enough alcohol to more than cover for everyone.

The song Reiko had been singing had concluded, and she stepped off of the mound of fabrics that was serving as a makeshift platform, drifting on over to the others. They were presently arranged in a semi-circle of chairs facing said platform. Nekozawa remained up on the improvised stage and absentmindedly flipped the mic for the karaoke machine up in the air and caught it on the rebound. So far he, Takai, and Reiko had already gone. Nekozawa and Reiko had just performed a duet of "My Mercy" by Coal Chamber, and Takai had pulled off a competent cover of "Acid Hologram" by the Deftones (except for the louder parts, which Takai's raspy voice was completely unable to handle).

"It's your turn, Fujioka" Nekozawa said. Haruhi thought that his leer made him look kind of like a drugged-out mental patient.

" _Or a sexual predator…"_ she supposed. _"…no. No. That's a bad thought, Haruhi. A baddddddd thought._ "

"Do I hafta?" she said in as nasally a tone as she could muster, hoping her deliberately whiny words would dissuade any further discussion.

"As in, are you obligated to? Yes. Yes you are" Nekozawa leered, taking a sip of "lemonade" from the cup in his free hand that was filled more with booze than lemon.

"Um, okay" Haruhi said as she stood up. Her butt was starting to hurt anyway from sitting in that uncushioned hardwood chair. She felt a little dumb for realizing only now that she probably could have used a bolt of linen as padding.

"Do you have any songs programmed into that thing that aren't heavy metal?" she asked.

"How about alternative metal?"

"No thanks."

"Industrial metal?"

"No."

"Russian peat-bog metal?"

"What in bloody Cthulhu is that?" she said. She hoped the fact she had fortuitously worked an elder god into her epithet wasn't a sign that she was going native.

"Well, being Russian myself, it melds elements of-" he began.

"What?"

"-what?" Umehito repeated.

"Did you just say you were Russian?" Haruhi tested incredulously. "As in 'of or from the country of Russia'?"

"Yes I did. Ah! Sorry, I'm an idiot, I forgot to tell you."

"You mean you were just educated in Russia, right?" she asked. "You don't actually mean-"

Nekozawa responded by lowering his hood, which actually wasn't excruciatingly painful for once given the scarce level of lighting. He took no small delight in the complete surprise on Haruhi's face when he removed his black wig, revealing a foreigner's mane of platinum blond.

"Look. Whatever, fine. Why am I even surprised at anything anymore" she said, clearing her throat exasperatedly and massaging the crown of her head with her thumb. "Back on topic, do you have _any_ genre songs that _aren't_ metal?"

"We've got plenty of funk and funk-rock songs…" Nekozawa tentatively suggested, readjusting his wig.

"Yeah, heh, I don't really think I've got a lot of funkiness in me" Haruhi said. The idea of her of all people having some sense of innate groove was actually kind of funny, she had to admit. She actually smiled a little at the thought.

"Wouldn't make you any worse than Chuck Mosley" Nekozawa smirked.

"Who's that?" Haruhi asked, the statement catching her off-guard.

"FNM's first singer" he explained. "He sucked."

"How the hell was I supposed to know that?"

"Okay, okay, I'll go easy on the in-jokes. And I think I have a song that might work" Nekozawa said after a second of reflection. "It's from a Silent Hill soundtrack. Don't worry if you get some of the words wrong because you're not familiar with it; it's in English, so you can use that as your excuse."

"Sounds okay" Haruhi said. She didn't play many games other than computer solitaire, but she knew that Silent Hill was a video game series of some sort; video games often had iconic music. "What's it called?"

"Love Psalm. It's a pun on 'Love Song'."

"I somehow think I would have understood that even without you pointing that out" she said with a combined roll of the eyes and a wheezy sigh. "My English is actually pretty good."

"Oh. Well, ahem" Nekozawa hiccoughed. "I'll, I'll queue it up then."

Nekozawa made his way over to the karaoke machine as Haruhi took his place on stage. She always felt so uncomfortable being in the spotlight. At least there were only five people here, including herself. And two of them weren't even paying much attention to her at the present interval; Takai and Ippan were having a passive-aggressive argument over something equal parts inane and insane.

"Hey! Reiko. How do you work this damn thing?" Umehito said after fiddling with the machine for half a minute. "I don't wanna break it."

"You won't break-oh" Reiko said, interrupting herself as she took a look at the device's screen. "What the hell did you do to the interface?! Here, let me in."

While Reiko and Umehito (mostly Reiko) tried to scroll up Love Psalm, Haruhi adjusted her grip on the mic and thought back to her prior experiences with karaoke. The most notable instance being that time she'd had to go to work with her dad because he couldn't find a baby-sitter and she'd gotten to witness a bunch of drunken transvestites obliterate "Like a Virgin" and "Sabitsuita Machine Gun de Ima o Uchinikou".

Maybe she shouldn't think back to that, actually. It hadn't been a good experience.

"Wait, we've-no-yes. Yes! We've got it" Nekozawa said, clapping his hands together gleefully. "Let's hear it, Haruhi."

The words began scrolling across the computer monitor that had been placed in front of the "stage". Haruhi took a deep breath and began her song. She deliberately tuned herself out of the world around her, focusing utterly on the Romanji characters scrolling across the screen.

* * *

" _This isn't the life that I dreamed it could be_

 _I'm staring into the eyes of the shell left of me_

 _And now every decision I make_

 _The good, the pleasure and the pain_

 _Could simply all be erased_

 _If I choose it to be_

 _This nightmare unfolds like a rose awakes to the spring_

 _Always so close to the sanity I'm trying to cling to_

 _I'm tearing out the pages 'cause it hurts_

 _To be forced to feel the hearts break_

 _How much of this torture can I take?_

 _Is it not worth the risk to crea-_ "

* * *

"Let's, uh, let's _not_ hear it, Haruhi. Damn, my ears. All the autotune in the world couldn't save you" Nekozawa said as he took the microphone from her. She'd been in such a daze she hadn't even realized he'd obtrusively made his way up to the stage until he was right there.

"Well I _did_ tell you I sucked" she said in defense of herself, somewhat self-conscious of the fact that everyone in the room was now staring at her. Save for Takai and Ippan, whose argument looked about to devolve into fisticuffs any moment now.

"Yeah, but there are varying degrees of suckage" Umehito informed her. "That was all the way over in 'extreme suck' territory."

"Did I ever tell you I used to like that song?" Itzura griped aloud.

"Keh. Well excuse me for being honest about my vocal capabilities" Haruhi Fujioka protested. She tossed the mic at Nekozawa's chest in annoyance, possibly intending for him to catch it, or maybe just having missed an aimed shot at his head. In any case it collided with his ribs before clattering to the floor.

"Ow" Umehito said, rubbing his upper torso. "That's gonna leave a bruise. But in all seriousness maybe it was my own fault for making you do something you didn't feel comfortable with."

"You've been doing that an awful lot lately, it seems" Haruhi said with a tired laugh.

Itazura looked at Nekozawa and tilted his head at Haruhi before nodding twice. Nekozawa seemed to grasp the gist of the suggestion.

"Eheh. True" Umehito mumbled gracelessly. "If you want you can head for home early."

"Really?" Haruhi blinked. "You don't mind?"

"No, not terribly. It's not my set mission in life to make you so miserable" he giggled, rather girlishly too. "Let's go; I'll walk you outside, if you don't mind. Just so we can chat."

"Oh. Uh, thanks" Haruhi said, although she was calculatingly looking in Itazura's direction when she said "thanks".

Leaving his underlings behind to clean up, Nekozawa and Haruhi began the walk back upstairs. They were about midway up the stairwell when Haruhi remembered a question that had occurred to her earlier.

"Back when you said I had to wear my Black Magic uniform at all times…wouldn't that conflict with the dress code?" She really hoped there wouldn't be some sort of revelation here, like her finding out that the head of a club she had joined practically owned the school or something. _That_ would be nothing short of dire.

"If you get in trouble you can blame me" he smiled. "Eh, but there is a clause in the student manual you're probably not familiar with. It allows for alternate, club-specific uniforms that aren't overly dissimilar from the standard school male or female uniforms. Provided you're of the proper gender of course. Don't worry; I'll keep your womanly ways a secret."

"But doesn't this weird robe constitute being 'overly dissimilar'?" she said, spreading out the frills of the outfit's cloak to stress how odd it would seem.

"Yes. Yes it does. So if you want you can just wear the suit" Nekozawa informed her as they reached the top of the stairs. He held the door open for her, but had a rather conniving expression on his face when he said, "Personally I'd opt for it over those drab duds you had when you first came into our little haven of horrors."

Haruhi wasn't all that insulted that he'd called her normal clothes drab, really. For one thing it was technically true, and for another thing she simply didn't care. The pair trod along the ground-floor hallway for a little longer before Haruhi felt it prudent to inquire about another issue that had been pressing at her.

"Sooooo. Why _do_ you wear your robe at all times?"

"Errr, isn't it obvious, Fujioka?" Umehito laughed. "Me and light get along about as well as matter and antimatter. The Bismarck and the Hood. Jedi and Sith. Sonny and Cher, after their marriage fell apart."

"Sonny who?" Haruhi snickered. "But heh, fair enough. I just wondered if there was something more to it."

"Haha. Nope. No deep reason" he said, smiling at her from under his hood. A sincere smile, as opposed to one of his customary creepy leers. "Simply because I hate natural light and natural illumination hates me. Light on my unprotected skin is a very unpleasant sensation, like being _slowwww-ly_ immersed in a pool of moist, clammy bile."

"Hmm" she said, ending her noncommittal answer with a drawn-out whistle.

This was a nice, relaxing walk if nothing else; Ouran Academy was a beautiful, scenic place. It was a shame that it was a school, aka a place people didn't want to be at, because it probably gave more than a few students negative associations with the place when they would ordinarily be able to enjoy its lush gardens, manicured lawns, and impeccable architecture.

"Yep", Umehito yawned, in advance of asking, "Say, Fujioka. Are you a lesbian?"

"Well I- _what_?!" Haruhi yelped, freezing dead in her tracks. And nearly tripping over her shoes in the process.

"Wait, you're not?" Nekozawa responded, as he too came to an unscheduled halt.

She was more than a little irritated that he didn't sound like he was being satirical. Actually, he sounded more than a mite astonished; again, not helping things. Not that she would have found a joke like that to be terribly funny, regardless.

"The hell made you think that?!" she asked. She didn't even find the implied accusation to be all that mean, it was so strange. A little hilarious, even.

"Well, I mean, you cross-dress, and you seem kind tomboyish. Y'know? I'm, uh, I'm in trouble. Aren't I."

"Well excuse me for being unladylike!" the underclassman scoffed. "Sorry to ruin your fantasy, but I'm not attracted to girls. Well…"

"'Well'?" Nekozawa repeated, lifting an eyebrow in anticipation.

"Well, at least I'm pretty sure" Haruhi said as she forced her feet to resume the march to Ouran's front entrance.

"See? It's not such a stupid question" Umehito said as he picked up his pace alongside her, easily matching steps with her with the assistance provided by his lengthy legs.

"Hey, what about you?" Haruhi asked.

"Huh? Oh, no, you see, men can't be lesbians" he said, nudging her side playfully.

"So funny I forgot to laugh. And don't touch me. Seriously though, are you into guys or aren't you?" she persisted.

"No, I'm not" Umehito sighed. "I thought I was gay ages ago, but most adolescent boys go through a confused phase like that."

"And what made you so sure you _weren't_ gay?"

Nekozawa snickered somewhat condescendingly and looked to be on the verge of giving her a pat on the head before he realized he'd probably get punched for something so puffed-up and overconfident. If there was one thing Haruhi found supremely abrasive, it was snootiness. Instead he exhaled and stepped in front of her, forcing her to make eye contact with her as he blocked her path.

"I realized that if I were gay I'd be far less grossed out by the idea of kissing another guy. Or having sex with him" he clarified.

"Ick. That's an unpleasant thought" Haruhi said, sticking her tongue out a bit as if she'd just bit into something spoiled. She shouldered her way past Umehito, not wishing to dwell here, either physically or mentally.

" _Wha_? Really?!" Nekozawa gasped when what she had said settled in, looking even more shocked than he had earlier. Although in actuality that probably wasn't actually the case since he did nonetheless resume walking instead of remaining unmoving. "You mean you're not, you're not…into that?"

"Ew, no!" she objected, an aspect of revulsion to her appearance. "Obviously I don't have anything against gay men or anything, but the idea of watching you and another dude getting freaky wouldn't be to my liking."

"What kind of Japanese high school girl _are_ you?" Umehito laughed.

"Haha" she replied with narrowed eyes. "And do you own an AK-47 because you're Russian?"

"Funny you should mention that-"

"Well, wouldn't you know it we're here!" Haruhi said, hoping this would be the end of the tête-à-tête. Indeed, they were in fact here at the front-side entrance. "Been great talking to you."

"Yep" Umehito grinned. "See you tomorrow."

"So, this club meets every weekday after school, I take it?" Haruhi sighed.

"Eyup. After school, of course" he said, stretching his arms out over his head before continuing. "Arrive anytime, but the sooner the better. Expect to see me there before anyone else; sometimes the others have stuff to catch up on. Me, I've got nothing better to do. Suits me just fine though."

"Doesn't this little league of yours ever get in the way of your social life outside school?" she quizzed him.

"I…I um…don't have many friends" he said, bringing his arms down impotently to his sides. "Outside of school. Or in. The Black Magic Club is everything to me, Fujioka."

"Well, wait. What about after you graduate?" she asked worriedly. "Your friends might not go to the same university as you."

"Heh. 'University'. I'll _die_ when I'm twenty, Haruhi." Nekozawa laughed as he scowled. Not a warm laugh like he was want to do, but a cheerless, resentful laugh. "The only two reasons I go to high school are the basic principles of education and self-improvement."

"You don't…really believe that you'll die then? Do you?" Haruhi asked, quite literally wide-eyed.

"I don't expect you to understand Haruhi. But you'll see in time." Nekozawa's scowl melted into a leer and he added, "See you after school tomorrow."


	6. Serpents and Suits

"It's like they don't even exist. Fucking weird." Haruhi murmured as she closed yet another tab on her ancient laptop's browser. The sites she was visiting would be difficult enough to read even without the cracked screen, what with their hard-to-translate foreign text and occulty gobbledegook.

"Language, Haruhi" her dad reminded her.

"Shit, I'm sorr-I mean fuck, I didn't mean to-dammit! I…never mind."

The girl let out a protracted groan and cracked her knuckles. Haruhi was at present sitting in her dad's old office chair, the laptop itself resting on her thighs since she couldn't readily clear off Ranka's desktop from the table in front of her. She was searching for anything she could possibly glean on the Nekozawa clan. Asides from learning that they were an obscure offshoot of the Romanov dynasty (emphasis on a _very_ obscure one) and that they had been in Japan for a little more than two hundred years, it was proving difficult in the extreme to find anything concrete. Haruhi also felt a little like a stalker when her searches occasionally turned up forum posts clearly from Umehito himself, often under the username pseudonyms ImpaledPrince or Raspy.

" _Raspy must be a corruption of Rasputin. And ImpaledPrince is obviously in reference to Vlad the Impaler"_ she considered. _"Wait, wasn't Vlad a Romanian?_ "

"Also. Why are you up so late again?" her dad asked her. As he spoke he walked up to her, setting down a thrice-emptied shotglass next to the clock-radio on the desk. It was already 3:12 AM, if it was to be trusted.

"I could ask you the same question."

"Drank half a pot of coffee at the bar and now I can't sleep" he smiled. His eyes were tired but his grin was possessed of all his usual energy. "A rather poor decision, that. So what's your excuse?"

"Doing some research" she sighed. Haruhi rubbed at her eyes with her balled-up hands, as if that ever helped in getting rid of one's fatigue.

"For school?"

"Something like that." Technically it was kinda true. Kinda.

"Just don't stay up much longer. If you're too exhausted to head in tomorrow, it'll all have been quite counterproductive" Ranka said in advance of stifling a fierce yawn. "Eh, I better head to bed. Even if I can't sleep yet I should probably lie down."

"Same" Haruhi smiled weakly. "I think I'll just read something unrelated or whatever to tire myself out and then I'll hit the hay."

One of the links she'd opened was a catalogue of folktales from around the world. There was no time to do any real research, but this might fit her purposes. After narrowing the filter down to ones that included Russia and finding only one result, she slouched forward in her chair and began reading a tale from the unplumbed depths of the Internet.

* * *

 _The sons and daughters of Russian are dour, grim people, no matter the century or regime. But it is precisely those two qualities which render them almost immune to hardship-induced suffering. This is not universal, of course. Within any group of people there will be outliers, and it is easy to lose your ideals when you are a refugee in a strange land. A strange land which might as well be galaxies away instead of countries or continents._

 _The story I am relating from memory speaks of a man of plainly Slavic ancestry, who along with his immediate family came to live in a foreign nation. Some said he was hiding because of a horrific crime committed in the land of his birth. Others heard that he was just possessed of a complete boredom with Russia and wanted to live as far away as possible. When he was a child the name of this place seemed as alien as an entirely separate plane of existence; thus he came here, out of a base desire for change._

 _Regardless of how or why he ended up there, it was plain he was far from happy at his new circumstances. He had lived in wealth his whole life up until now. Working odd jobs and getting by on a day to day basis tore at him, mocked him. He hated this new place, even more than he hated the nation he had abandoned._

 _And that is where the serpent came in. Well, the Bible actually describes Satan's figurative form as a lizard and not a snake per se, but a snake is more easily recognized so that is the device this storyteller will use._

 _The serpent approached this man, not in any physical way but rather in the darkest depths of sentience where sin and ill tidings fester. Instantly recognizing this second party for what is was, because it is impossible to mistake purest evil which has been given shape and sentience for anything but the Devil, the man asked if the serpent had come to end this miserable life. Not that he was afraid, truthfully. This was a life the man felt had no point or inherent worth anymore._

 _The serpent chuckled dryly and informed him that he had actually come with a mere suggestion. The man wasn't an idiot and asked what the serpent wanted of him. The serpent replied that the man wouldn't have to give anything personally; all he asked for was the soul of one of his kin every so often._

" _I can hear the sinful demands people make of the universe, all the way in the back of their heads, like the drip-drip-drip of water in a vast pool" the serpent explained. "Your lust for power and wealth registered to me as nothing less than a waterfall of Envy. I am more than willing to help you live in comfort for the rest of your time here. What should you care what will happen to your sixteen-times removed great-great-great-etc-grandson? You'll be dead! You won't be able to care, even if you wanted to."_

" _But don't you get the short end of the stick here?" the man tested._

" _No, no, not in the slightest degree. You have to understand, I have a limitless amount of transitory, earthly power and influence. These things are worthless to a fleshless, ageless spirit like myself. But dominion over even one soul is priceless" the serpent elaborated. "A soul is priceless, and if you had my eyes you would see how beautiful every single one is, from a child in the womb to a woman on her deathbed. And warping something so beautiful into something ugly and tortured, knowing all the while that it belongs to me and only me, is what makes me feel alive. I am hate; I am hate incarnate. I don't need a reason to cause suffering to your kind. It's just what I do. It's always been this way, and always will. So? Do we have a deal?"_

"…"

" _Very good, 'Faust'. I for one am glad you agreed to my proposition."_

" _What?! But I-" I said, but it was too late._

" _Ah. You already said yes in that darkest part of your awareness, through your actions, thoughts, and words. Before we even began this little discussion."_

* * *

It was dark. Dark and warm. Haruhi supposed at first that was that she was still dreaming, but as her tactile sensation became more and more evident she realized she was lying on top of her futon. She must have crawled onto here and passed out sometime last night. No time to dwell on that, though. The clock-radio said it was well past six now. Barely enough time to eat breakfast, have a shower, get dressed-

Oh right, getting dressed. She'd have to wear that suit. She had no idea how to properly put on a men's dress suit, but she could give it the old college try.

About twenty-five minutes, a hastily reheated bowl of soup, and seventeen gallons of shower water later and she was just about finished donning her dapper attire. Her dad's pounding on the door and rather colourful burst of language served as a recurring reminder that she was taking more time than usual. Figuring the socks and shoes could be put on in the common area, she swung the door open and hopped out, narrowly avoiding both hitting Ranka's forehead with the door and crashing into him with her body. As Ranka recoiled, a sputtering shamble, he voiced his thoughts on what had just occurred.

"What the fu- _what the fuck_?! Where'd you-?"

"Sorry, it was the suit. And yeah, I know." Haruhi informed him. She hobbled over to the couch and began working her right sock onto her foot as she spoke. "These damn things, how do guys manage-oh, just so you know, I got this little ensemble from some weirdoes at school."

"…eh?"

"Don't ask questions" Haruhi seethed, teeth gritted and fingers clenched. Sock number one was almost on; these damn things had way less breathing room than her usual woolen pair. "I've learned that the pain fades more quickly that way."

"O-kaaaaay" Ranka said, now more confused than angered. "Anyway, I should really get dressed now. And pray I don't get fired for showing up late."

"Aight. Don't forget to lock up again."

The second sock went on quicker. Shoes came after that, and those same shoes bolted out the door immediately afterwards, headed at Mach speed for the train station. Waiting for the train, she couldn't help but notice the glassy-eyed stares she was getting from the girls her age that were present.

" _Huh. I had no idea people in these parts were so into designer brands_ " Haruhi thought.

Needless to say, Haruhi's assessment was incorrect. Fortunately, no one was boldfaced enough to ask her out, especially seeing as Haruhi usual reaction to being hit on by someone of either sex was caustic obliviousness, however unintentional.

* * *

A familiar corridor: the same one Nekozawa had approached her in the other day, to be precise. A familiar time: the end of the day.

"How'd it go?"

And a familiar voice, if not a very familiar face, since Nekozawa's visage was perpetually shrouded by his cloak. He had been waiting here, obviously, and hadn't made any attempt to hide the fact since he'd just been standing in a shadowed corner facing the direction she would come from. Had he memorized her schedule?

"Huh? Oh, hey" she said to the ever-creepy recluse she now called her club president. "Uh, how'd what go?"

"School, your school day" he clarified. As he spoke he fell into step beside her, matching her pace as they both headed for the clubroom.

"Oh. It went pretty well, I guess" she said. "People were asking where I got the outfit but I managed to perfect a glare that would make them stop talking. So what are we gonna do today, exactly? Wait, how'd you know I was gonna be here?"

"Magic." He then coughed and added, "Also I figured you would take this route, since your last class is close to your post-lunch class."

"So you _did_ look at my schedule? How? Y'know what, just don't even tell me." Haruhi was beyond caring at this point. Caring would require energy, and energy was one thing she simply didn't have. "I feel so weirded out right now."

"I would have asked you, but then, if I could ask you that would mean I would have _already_ found you, thus defeating the purpose of _trying_ to figure out where you would be at that interval."

"Huh. So anyway, what were we gonna be doing?" she probed, hoping to change the matter of discussion to something more pleasant.

"The sport of loners and malcontents the worlds over."

"Which is-?" Haruhi asked. She hoped it didn't involve anything illegal.

"Dungeons and Dragons, of course" Umehito chuckled.

"Isn't that kind of a board game tailor-made for dorks?"

"Haruhi" he shushed, complete with a condescending pat on the head. "Haruhi, dear, do you seriously mean to imply that you're not a dork?"

"Heh. Fair point."

The two had been so engrossed in their dialogue that they hadn't even noticed they weren't alone anymore. Another student was coming down the hall towards them, clearly trying desperately to avoid eye contact. Nekozawa leered, Haruhi glared, and the student looked dearly uncomfortable from the combined effect. When they had passed them and walked out of earshot, Haruhi and Umehito shared an immature little giggle. Haruhi had to admit that she was an oddball by nature. That was definitely something she wouldn't need to fake for the club's sake.

"You're looking good, by the way" Umehito said.

"Really? I feel like Hell" Haruhi laughed.

"I mean your attire, 'Mister' Fujioka."

"Oh. Heh, yeah. Some of the girls couldn't seem to take their eyes off me today. Was kinda weird."

"It's a shame you're not into that" he said, a strange grin on his lips.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing" he said, hands held up in mock innocence.

"That's what I thought."

* * *

"So, you have these funny-looking dice, and they determine basically everything that happens" Takai Tanos said. As Takai explained the gist of the game to her, the others filled out new character sheets and Nekozawa set up the location tiles behind his Dungeon Master's screen. Of course _he_ was the Dungeon Master.

"Including if I want to play or not?" Haruhi asked. She actually wasn't all that opposed to what was essentially a board game, but she felt like it would be out of character if she wasn't at least a little salty.

"Let's find out" Takai said, rolling the D20 die he was holding before examining the diminutive object. "That's a nineteen…or maybe a twelve, it's sort of on the side…whatever. The die says you have to play."

"What classes can I play as? This is like an RPG game, right?"

"Pretty much _the_ original roleplaying game. You don't just choose class, you also get to pick your race" Takai smiled. "Neat, huh?"

"What do you recommend for a beginner?" Haruhi asked.

"Cleric is good. You get heavy armour, simple weapons, and magic. Plus you can heal your party members and screw with Undead."

"Fine" she shrugged. They were just about ready to start, it seemed. All that was really left was her character sheet. "I'll be a, um, human cleric of…is there a deity who's constantly fed up with everyone's bullshit?"

"Just pick Pelor for your deity. Dirty little secret: almost everyone who plays as a Human cleric picks Pelor."

"Pelor it is."


	7. Dunces and Dragons

The drip-drip-drip of condensation meted out a steady rhythm to the party's descent, down and down into the depths of these natural cavities in the bedrock which were alternatingly cramped one stretch and gaping the next. The claustrophobe was heightened by the aspect that everything about this subterranean place reeked of death, particularly those innumerable forgotten alcoves occupied by obviously humanoid bones. A perturbing facet, that, since there was only one man who was _supposed_ to be buried here.

They had heard from the townspeople that only one youth had ever returned from the much-whispered "midnight visits" some curious souls used to pay to the Tomb. The poor young man had acquired the pallor of a ghost from whatever he had had seen, and spent the remainder of his limited days shrieking nonsense about thousand-eyed corpses of a forgotten race's divine idols.

Naturally, for the party of Haruhin the Cleric, Ippal the Figher, Nekozar the Sorcerer (and a specialist in Necromancy), Kanazuna the Wizard (also a specialist, albeit in hexes), Itazur the Rogue, and Tansoh the Paladin, this sort of notoriety was irresistible. And so the foolhardy or perhaps just plain foolish group had spent the better part of three hours delving through this strange network of caves and caverns that seemed to have been the original structural basis for this site, the Tomb of the Faceless King. Unlike the tomb proper, which had been completely non-natural and disappointingly bare of anything resembling perverse terrors, the grottoes at the back were both organic in their design and haunted with the whispers of the ancients. Hopefully they could fulfill on the promise of something, _anything_ hidden and unnatural. Because really, what would be the point of adventuring about in a place with no opportunity for adventure?

"Wait, hold up" Tansoh said, raising his scale-mail clad hand in a warding gesture. It was probably somewhat appropriate that Tansoh wore armour with such a design over his likewise scaly skin, since he was after all one of the humanoid lizards known as Dragonborn.

"What is it this time?" Nekozar asked.

Nekozar's fingers tensed around the pommel of his dagger; it occurred to him that if he'd been smart he would have called dibs on bringing up the rear of the party, where he could avoid direct harm. Instead he was practically at the front, right behind Tansoh and Itazur.

"I heard something. It sounds like…someone-no, two people pacing around" Tansoh whispered. The torch Kanazuna was holding sputtered and dimmed for a moment, serving as a good foreshadowing to Tansoh delivering an irked grunt and saying, "I don't like it."

The torch flickered again, less pronouncedly this time. When it flared back up with renewed brilliance it briefly revealed a rather disturbing mural on the ceiling above, which went completely ignored by the party. After all, more pressing issues were at hand.

"I can scout ahead" Itazur offered after a moment's silence. "If I scream, all of you come running."

Itazur flexed his arms behind his back, psyching himself up for whatever spookiness might ensue. The Rogue was not a weak-willed man, though, and in addition he was admittedly more than a little bit of a glory hog. He was fully aware that Nekozar was probably worried he would try to be the hero, but even he wouldn't do something quite so rash in this scenario.

"Wait, hold on" Haruhin spoke.

"What? Do you need something? Or do you have a question?" Nekozar asked.

"No. Just gimme a second-" Haruhi said, before extending her palm out towards Itazur and flexing her fingers twice. "There. I just cast Minor Blessing. That might help."

"Good thinking, good thinking" Nekozar said, patting Haruhin on the back. Rather roughly, too. "Alright. Itazur, you're all charged up and ready to go. If you're not back in one minute, we'll come collect whatever's left of your corpse and send it home to your family."

"Don't you think that his family wouldn't really want to have the fragments of one of their own, especially if it was delivered to them in a package?" Ippal pointed out.

"Good point. We'll just leave you here to rot."

"With friends like these…" Itazur muttered.

He crouched his lean body down into a hunkered-down stance, low to the ground, and melted away into the shadows as he forged ahead with his reconnaissance. It didn't take long for Itazur to pinpoint the exact cause of the pacing, and it even came from a pleasingly morbid source: two zombies or similar varieties of animated corpses dawdling aimlessly and brainlessly around an ankle-deep subterranean channel of filthy water.

" _Likely placed here to guard against intruders. Or they might be the reanimated bodies of two poor bastards who came down here and never left_ " Itazur supposed. He also supposed that taking them out via a sneak attack would be out of the question. While he was quite capable at pulling off a coup de grace on a living target that was unaware of his presence, the undead were a little different in that they didn't possess anything akin to vital organs that could be targeted.

Even though he thought he could take them on regardless, Itazur knew he wouldn't hear the end of it from their little group's self-appointed leader if he took all the glory for himself, so he settled for sulking on back to the others.

"Well? What'd you see?" Nekozar asked of the long-suffering Rogue on his return.

"Zombies, two of 'em" he replied. "A couple of old friends of yours, Necromancer?"

"Heh, yeah, I'm sure. Well Haruhin, it seems you have your work cut out for you" the Sorcerer said to Haruhin, a very familiar leer on his face.

"Wha-?" Haruhin was slightly miffed that she had been distracted from the elegantly simple pleasure of spacing out while staring dazedly at the cavern wall. "Sorry, do I have to do something now? I wasn't really paying attention."

"Remember when we mentioned you can mess undead up something royal?"

"Yeah?"

"Just get in their general vicinity, display the wooden holy symbol of Pelor you bought in town, and use your Turn Undead ability" Kanazuna explained on Nekozar's behalf. She had been killing time flipping through her spellbook. Pretty pointless, seeing as the girl was the obsessive type and already had the whole thing memorized.

"'Turn'? What does it turn them into?" Haruhin blinked.

"That's a _terrible_ pun" Nekozar groaned. As he spoke he turned around to face Haruhi, resting his side against a rather grungy stalactite.

"Pun?"

"Oh, heh, I see. So you're just stupid."

" _Hey-_ "

"No, I kid, I kid" he laughed, although Haruhin suspected that wasn't really the case. "FYI, Turn Undead can stun undead, or sometimes even make them run away or outright destroy them."

"Ah. Y'see, that's the _polite_ way to answer a question" she reproached him, although he either didn't seem to notice or more likely didn't care. "But, uh, I guess that makes me pretty important for this skirmish, right? So I get an escort, maybe Ippal on one side, Tansoh on the other, with-"

"Haha nope. You have to go on point" Ippal said to her, attempting rather ineffectually to conceal the schadenfreudeian fun he was taking in the situation. "I recommend holding your mace in your free hand in case the turning attempt fails and you have to resort to a good-ol-fashioned ass-whoopin'."

"Well doesn't that make me want to swallow a cyanide capsule right now and never have to deal with you idiots again…yep. This is just peachy."

"Y'know what they say, life is peachy" Nekozar snickered. "Ah, I crack myself up."

"How was that even a joke?" Haruhin asked, slightly confused and very annoyed. Although Nekozar didn't know it, Haruhin was calculating the force and angle of impact she would have to apply in order to most efficiently clobber him with her mace.

" _Ahem_ " Kanazuna growled. Somewhat out of character, true, but she was getting genuinely vexed. "We can joke and make merry later. _After_ everything down here that wants to murder our faces has been dealt with."

"BLUUUUURRGH…"

"Excellent counterpoint, Haruhin" Nekozar mused.

"…that wasn't me" Haruhin answered, her left eye twitching sporadically in complete panic.

"Pardon?"

"Uh, yeah, this isn't good. And you may want to turn around so you can look at what the rest of us are seeing right now!" Ippan said as he readied his footing to receive a charge.

The two zombies had apparently taken the fight right to them, and had just finished rounding the final corner of the crooked passageway Itazura had gone down. Not to the party's credit, they had apparently been making too much noise on their own to hear any incoming aggressors.

"Alright, alright. Just hold them off long enough for me to ready Burning Hands-" Kanazuna began, only to trail off when the pair of undead covered their faces as if they had just born witness to some unspeakable horror. Subsequently they staggered back before fleeing back down the tunnel. She turned tentatively to face Haruhin, who was indeed clutching her holy symbol in a white-knuckled grip.

"Did I do that right?" Haruhin inquired. She looked pretty jittery, to judge from how much she was trembling.

"Well Haruhi, since the zombies fled like you were carrying a double-barreled shotgun-" Takai started saying, only to be kicked lightly in the shin by Nekozar.

"What the hell?"

"Don't break character" Nekozar hissed.

"Right" he sighed. "Since the zombies fled like you were carrying a basin full of holy water, I'd say you did a decent enough job at it."

A semi-awkward silence overtook the party of six. Haruhin resumed her zoning out, this time with a slightly chagrined expression on her face, as though smelling something unpleasant (which was a very real possibility, what with the lingering stench of the two rotting zombies). Ippal too had a pensive countenance on his brooding features. He was obviously considering something. Finally he seemed to have put the proper words to his thesis.

"The fact that they wandered in here means they were on a regular foot patrol. Therefore, someone actively wants to keep us out of the Tomb" Ippal supposed.

"Didn't you mean to say 'something'?" Tansoh tested.

"No, but apparently I _should_ have said 'Takai if you don't take your constant corrections and shove-'"

"I think I'm getting a migraine" Haruhin interrupted. "The way I see it we're going deeper into this cave or grotto or whatever, and it doesn't really matter to me whether it's with you two on your feet or bound and gagged and suffering from assorted mace-induced batterings."

The girl sounded like she meant it. Although none had ever seen Haruhin start a fight, it was often the quiet mild-mannered ones who were shockingly violent when they finally did snap. Ippal and Tansoh looked at one another, exchanging a look that indicated an armistice had just been formed.

Progress was made somewhat more quickly after that. The only real occasion of note was coming across a trio of goblin skirmishers who were probably using this place as an impromptu base of operations, but the party decided the impish creatures weren't really worth their time and snuck by them. And so it went, until a real lead turned up in the form of a plainly synthetic construct. It was a perfectly cubical box of iron measuring about thirty feet by thirty feet, situated in the approximate center of a bulbous natural chamber.

"What do you make of it?"

Itazur ran his slight fingers along the rough surface of the cube. The question he had posed was directed to the entire group as a whole. And more rhetorically than anything, really, since it wasn't all that likely any of them were going to correctly guess the answer.

"It's probably meant to keep something in" Kanazuna said.

"How do you know it isn't intended to protect something from everything outside?" Itazur returned.

"True, true."

"Or it could be like a reliquary of sorts."

"Ahem" Nekozar coughed. He was standing with his hands on his hips, facing the rightmost side of the box in relation to the angle it had been positioned to the chamber's entrance.

"What, you have some idea as to what this is or what we should do with it?" Itazur asked.

"No. Well, maybe. It's just that there's something over here you should probably all look at. Especially you, Haruhin."

"Me?" Haruhin asked, pointing a finger at herself. Not that Nekozar would have been able to see, since the box was blocking line of sight between them.

"Yes, you."

Obeying the request, Haruhin and the others crowded around Nekozar. On his side of the box there was a sturdy-seeming door of sorts recessed into the facing, also made of iron and clearly intended for something other than a Human-sized traveller to judge from the narrow width. And written across in was script in Undercommon, a language Haruhin was versed in thanks to her readings of various Drow scholars.

"What's it say?" Kanazuna asked.

"'Spring in winter for butchered sheep. Fallen down, returned to dirt. Look at me, and never sleep. Sacrificed, untouched, unhurt.'"

"Wait, it rhymes if you read it aloud in Common?" Tansoh asked rather skeptically.

"Yeah" Haruhin said, a slight smile on her lips at the absurd truth of the statement. "Meaning it's a riddle that was probably originally in Common but was subsequently translated to Undercommon. Weird."

"Maybe we can extrapolate, based on this and what we already knew" Nekozar suggested. "Anyone know a conniving, intelligent, mastermind-edly type of monster that would speak both Common and Undercommon."

"Nope."

"Nuh-uh."

"Aboleths?"

"Sentient mushrooms?"

"I-…actually, I second sentient mushrooms."

"Illithids, you morons!" Nekozar ranted. "You know, Mind Flayers!"

"Huh?" Tansoh asked.

"Yes! Illithids will be the thing that we'll-what?"

"What did you just say?" Tansoh said, eyes narrowing.

* * *

"I said-um, nothing. I said nothing. Nothing is what I said" Nekozawa said.

Of course, the preceding events had been taking place on the game board, as opposed to in some Lovecraftian crypt. And true to form, "Nekozawar" the Sorcerer aka Nekozawa the Social Liability had bungled another session. He was all-too-painfully aware that the object everyone was glaring at with unchecked hate was his pallid face. Well, everyone but Haruhi, who hadn't really been getting into it like the others and simply couldn't be bothered to care.

"Dammit Nekozawa!" Ippan shouted, practically screaming. "This is why I keep saying the Dungeon Master shouldn't get to roll a character!"

"This happens every damn time" Kanazuna sighed, polishing her glasses with a handy cloth while the shouting intensified.

"Just as well. We should probably stop here" Tanso sighed as well, before muttering, "No idea why I thought it would turn out any different this time."

"Is this the sort of thing that usually happens when people play Dungeons and Dragons?" Haruhi asked warily, a flying handful of "d10" dice nearly colliding with her head.

"Pretty much, yeah!" Ippan, the one who had thrown said dice, informed her before he leapt clean over the game board and tackled their Dungeon Master.

"Help! He's attacking your president!" Nekozawa hollered as the situation with Ippan degenerated into a full-on clash of fists.

"Oh no, better call the Secret Service" Reiko mumbled. After clearing her throat she followed with, "I'll just be leaving for home now. Is that okay? Thanks, bye."

"I think I'll be going too" Takai concurred. "You and Ippan have fun with your homoerotic wrestling match there."

"Fuck it, I'm getting out of here too" Ippan snarled, but not before throwing and missing a straight jab aimed at Nekozawa's face. "Never thought I'd be in situation where _I'd_ have to pummel some sense into someone."

"There's nothing for me here if all you are gonna scram. Seeya" Tairana said. Evidently he had already come to that conclusion before Reiko had even voiced her dissatisfaction with this sorry excuse for a roleplaying session, since he already had his jacket and bookbag slung over his back.

After those four had vacated, Nekozawa got up off the floor, taking the time to meticulously dust off his cloak. To be truthful he was more upset that his duds had been messed up than by the fact he had just been received a wrathful if well-deserved thrashing. He then gave Haruhi a discomfited sort of glance as if to apologize for the whole ordeal.

"Uh, sorry about this. But you know, maybe this isn't all a _total_ write-off."

"How so?" she snickered.

"Well, y'see, right there" he smiled, mischievously jabbing a thumb at the honor student. "You thought me getting punched right there was pretty funny, I'll bet. But more to the point, now that everyone else is gone, we can have a nice casual chat, free of distraction."

"Was there something you particularly wanted to talk about?" the girl blinked.

Now she was categorically more than a little curious. Nekozawa was nothing if not inscrutable, so she had no clue in the nine hells what he was so eager to discuss.

"You" he clarified, sitting back down in the chair he had been knocked out of. He cricked his neck back and forth to distract himself from his aching upper body; getting pummeled was rarely a relaxing experience, unless you had some sort of S&M kink.

"Me?" Haruhi laughed. "What's there to say? Sorry to disappoint, Nekozawa, but I'm a pretty bland kind of person."

"Think about it like this: everyone has their own story to tell. What's your story?" he asked. It occurred to Haruhi that Nekozwa sounded completely earnest. So, she figured she might as well do him the courtesy of being sincere in turn.

"Well, let's see. My dad and mom married kinda young…oh, and my mom's passed on. Heh" she breathed tiredly. "Funny how I just said that like it didn't matter. But it _does_ matter. The loss of a parent changes you, but maybe it's best that it happened when I was a child and was too young to understand it. As opposed to now, when I can comprehend the finality of death."

"I'd argue that death is like birth in a lot of ways" Nekozawa said. He realized immediately after saying that, that his words may have seemed a bit callous, but he figured he may as well continue with his hypothesis. "Really, without death you couldn't have life, in a way. Two sides of the same coin. I mean, that's why I have that tattoo."

"Pardon?" Haruhi blinked again. It seemed to Nekozawa that she often blinked when she was taken aback.

"Oh right, I never told you" Nekozawa said with a chuckle. "I have a tattoo of a Death's Head Moth on my back. You probably know of that creature; it's a mundane moth, but through some bizarre evolutionary quirk it has a pattern on its thorax that looks exactly like a human's skull."

"No, I'm more concerned about the fact that you have a tattoo at all. I mean, I know you're Russian, but…in Japan tattoos are more or less synonymous with the yakuza."

"Yes, I know" he said.

"You do?" And another blink.

"Yeah. One more reason I wear several layers at all time" he said. "Hey, is it true that sunglasses also bear a yakuza connotation?"

"I, uh-"

"Actually, no, sorry, I'm veering off-topic" he apologized. "The entire reason I didn't leave with the others…asides from the fact that I don't want to get my ass kicked in the stairwell, is because wanted to learn a little more about you."

"Ah, but you seem like an interesting man yourself, Nekozawa."

"Do I really?" he grinned. Well, an expression halfway between a leer and a grin, at least.

"Yes. You do, and I think you sell yourself short in thinking of yourself as some sort of useless misfit" she stated matter-of-factly.

"I suppose there's some wisdom in that. Maybe there is more to me than I let on, eh?" he beamed, if someone could be said to be beaming when they were clearly thinking on matters most grave.

"I've been told I'm good at giving pep talks. Maybe I'd make a good therapist."

"And sitting alone in a room with you, anyone would seem exciting by comparison."

"Gee. Thanks" she laughed. "We're all really quite ordinary when you get down to it. In my opinion no one's more unremarkable than a person with a victim complex, dyed hair and piercings who hates the world for being unfair. Of course the world is unfair; if everything was right and even it wouldn't be planet Earth. It'd be some weird utopian alien planet, like something outta Twilight Zone or a particularly unoriginal Star Trek episode."

"Are you talking about me? Because my hair really is blond, and I don't have any piercings…"

"Oh no!" she hastily enlightened him. "I was ranting. Just ranting. I had to deal with a lot of stupid girly preteen stuff in junior high."

"That's good, that you vent occasionally. One thing, well, I hope this doesn't sound like I'm stereotyping, but…" he hesitated. "But one thing I notice about you Japanese is that many of you are too afraid to speak your minds. You simply try to bottle everything up, which is rarely easy and never healthy."

"You really think so?" she asked good-humouredly.

"Yeah. Russia has the opposite problem, now that I think about it" he sighed.

Haruhi looked at her watch. Almost eight. Time really did fly when you were having fun. Or maybe the hours of rolling dice for character sheets and arguing over whether to use the fourth or fifth edition rulesets had just added up more than she'd realized.

"Y'know, this is interesting and all but I think I should probably get going for home soon" Haruhi said. "Knowing my dad he's probably set half the kitchen on fire trying to make one of mom's recipes."

"Sounds like a good enough reason to head off. Do you think we could talk again about our personal quirks sometime? Like I said, we all have our own story, and I'd like to hear the rest of yours" Nekozawa asked.

"Yeah. Yeah we can" Haruhi smiled. "You may give off imposing airs, but deep down you're hardly a villain. I'd like it if we could chat again."


	8. 140 000 Yen an Ounce

Haruhi appreciated anonymity more than most, so the invisible barrier her Black Magic ceremonial dress seemed to project between her and the normies during the day didn't make her feel isolated; on the contrary, there was something to be said for the beauty of solitude. Most of the past schoolweek she had chosen to wear only the black suit that went with it (a concession that Nekozawa had granted her). But on days like today when Haruhi wanted absolute serenity, she went full-tilt and donned the whole thing, hood included. Getting to drift off in class with the teacher too intimidated to call on you for a question was another definite plus. Her dad had stopped asking questions, and that was certainly appreciated. She wouldn't really know where to start if she tried to give a full explanation, anyhow.

Any hope that she could have a continuation of her quiet day in the clubroom seemed to have been rendered nil, though. Upon opening the double doors she was greeted with the sight of the entire club dashing around, barking and receiving orders, or otherwise in a state of barely contained chaos. The men of the club were arranging things into stacks of widely varying orderliness, while Reiko painstakingly measured out amounts of what looked to be a crumbly, darkish, organic substance into metal carafes. Itazura's sewing materials seemed to be out and were currently being used by the man himself. And curiously enough, woodworking tools were present on his worktable as well. It occurred to Haruhi that if Nekozawa was the public face and director of the Black Magic Club, Itazura really seemed like the man of a thousand talents who held the club together from behind the scenes.

"What's going on? Did someone die?" Haruhi asked for lack of a better question, entering the room but leaving the door open behind her. After all, the constant activity within had made the temperature rise exponentially, and even with two desk fans blowing a steady crossbreeze it was a little stifling.

"No, unfortunately" Itazura sighed, pausing to look up at Haruhi with a tired smile before a bitter mien overtook her face. "We're just making some very, _very_ , some might say _unnecessarily_ early-"

"Shut the hell up. The earlier we get a jump on this, the smaller the odds that we procrastinate on it until we're pulling a last-minute all-nighter" Nekozawa snarled. "Remember last year?"

"Sounds like somone's PMSing" Itazura said with a sneer before turning back to Haruhi. "Whatever. So yeah, Haruhi, we're getting ready for that quintessential high school event that always seems fun in dating sims but ends up being a huge headache in real life."

"Uh. This, this isn't going to involve se-"

"I meant a dating sim you don't have to hide from your parents, Haruhi. I'm talking about the culture festival."

"Wha-oh, I see" Haruhi said. Then realization hit a few seconds later. "Wait, _what_?! That's coming up, like, now?!"

"Well, no, not for another month. Club prez thinks we need to start early this year" Ippan called over to her from his spot in the corner sorting through stuff to keep or discard. A lot of their curios and other such forbidden artifacts of indescribably unimaginable horror would have to go into a storage locker for the moment to free up much-needed space. Space was one thing which was always at a premium in the Black Magic clubroom.

"How come no one else told me?" Haruhi asked, utterly befuddled.

"Well Haruhi, now that you're a member of the BMC, you'll have to just sort of expect that other students won't say something to you unless it's absolutely necessary. Even if they really should. Rude of 'em, I know" Nekozawa said, momentarily looking up from the house of tarot cards he was building for some unknown reason. Haruhi hoped he wasn't abusing his seniority and just goofing off now. "Heh. Wow, that sounds even more depressing when I say it that way."

"Don't you have friends outside the club, Haruhi?" Kanazuki asked.

"Uh, no, not really. None who go to this school, I mean."

As Haruhi spoke she tiptoed around the innumerable mounds of things, things, and more things, nearly conking her head on a low-hanging beam. She couldn't help but wonder if they should have prioritized the layout of the work areas before they started exerting themselves.

"That's kind of…actually I suppose I don't really, either" the other female club member admitted.

"Neither do I" Ippan grinned. "Eh, sometimes it seems like I don't have friends _in_ the club, either."

"Go listen to a Linkin Park album" Nekozawa jabbed. "Now then, Haruhi, I assume since you have no friends other than us-"

" _-who go to this school_ , I said."

"Yeah, whatever. Anyway, since I'm assuming you don't have any other obligations, can you stay a little longer today?" he pleaded. "It'd be really appreciated."

"I…ugggh. Fine" she said in surrender as Takai and Ippan began to vent their frustration by throwing things from their sorted piles at each other, which also essentially meant they were undoing all the work of the past hour. As an expertly-tossed ushabti collided with Takai's head, it occurred to Haruhi that _a lot_ of stuff seemed to collide with people's heads in this club, she noted.

"Great. Grab a hammer and start, uh, hitting stuff, I guess."

"Actually Haruhi, dear, I think you should follow _my_ cues if you plan on helping with making tables and shelves" Itazura said. "Unless you want to give Nekozawa a fractured skull, in which case I promise I won't rat you out if he sues."

"You guys are rich, right?" the scholarship student asked. "Can't we just buy tables or chairs and stuff?"

"A very valid point" Nekozawa said, pointing a finger at her. "The answer is: the school hates us and wants us to build everything on our own. Or because it would be pointless from a grading perspective if we just paid our way to success. Pick whichever you prefer."

"Uh, yeah" Haruhi said. She tentatively grabbed a hammer from Itazura's table as though the haft would explode at any minute, examining the metal head reflecting in the dim lighting for a few moments before a thought occurred to her. "I have a pertinent question. What are we doing for the festival, exactly?"

"I'm glad you asked" Itazura grinned. It seemed that everyone in the Black Magic Club had perfected their own version of Nekozawa's leer; Haruhi wondered half-seriously if it was just assumed that she'd learn how to do so as well. "I'll hand it to Umehito that he was at least on the ball in regards to the event itself. He suggested a tasseography café."

"A what now?" Haruhi laughed. She doubted she could even pronounce that word, much less guess what it meant. "Is that Romanji?"

"'Tasseography' derives from the French 'tasse' or 'cup', and 'graphy', as in 'writing'" Itazura informed her.

"'Cup writing'?"

"Tea leaf reading, actually" the pretty-boy smiled. "That's what tasseography refers to. A bit misleading, I know."

"That does sound rather intriguing, but I doubt many people will come. This club has…foreboding connotations for much of the student body. If the only inducement is more creepy stuff, I mean, well, I dunno," Haruhi mumbled, before coughing and finishing with, "It just doesn't seem like we'll be the most popular attraction."

She hoped she'd phrased her reservations delicately enough, although in retrospect she wasn't even sure why she'd opened her mouth to begin with. After all, it was apparent that preparations were already well underway.

"It's a café too, Haruhi" Nekozawa said with a sniff as his card-house crumpled to the floor. "We'll have a wide selection of exceptionally exotic teas as an added incentive for people to come."

"Oh. Okay, that does make a bit more sense."

"Yep. The tea reading will actually be offered as a free courtesy. It's really just to keep up appearances. I mean, it wouldn't do for the Black Magic Club to host an utterly pedestrian event, now would it?" Reiko explained as she switched to stacking bricks of tea. Haruhi noted that one of said bricks was umbral purple in colouration. She'd never seen such a thing, but she supposed that since this would be an uppercrust event she should really only be surprised it didn't have flecks of pure gold in it.

"Yeah. Hey, Reiko, be careful with that tea. It's worth its weight in cocaine" Itazura hollered.

"You uh, meant to say gold, right?" Nekozawa asked, pausing in his current activity, if one could be said to pause in the act of doing basically nothing.

"No, I meant pure cocaine, as in well over 140 000 yen an ounce. So Reiko, don't spill any."

"Am I the only one slightly alarmed that Itazura knows offhand how much a given unit of cocaine costs?" Nekozawa asked.

"Eh" Haruhi said, setting the hammer back down on the table. "So, I probably should have mentioned this earlier, but I know literally nothing about woodworking. Can I help Kanazuki with sorting the teas? Seems like less room for error, 'pure cocaine' expense notwithstanding.

"Go nuts" Itazura said.

"Yeah. Like I was saying, the culture festival isn't for another month" Ippan reassured her. "Do whatever you want to help out. Just so long as you don't just sit on your butt doing _nothing_ like a certain party who will remain nameless, it's all good."

Nekozawa apparently wasn't going to respond to the provocation, seeming content to bask in his own reflected laziness. He was getting a little bored, though. Idleness sometimes spawns creativity, though. A lightbulb lit up in his brain.

"Actually, Haruhi, I have something you can do."

"Oh?" Haruhi responded, having just finished sitting herself down next to Reiko.

"Yeah. How'd you like to be a volunteer test subject for our first tea reading?"

"Heh. When you put it that way it sounds slightly sinister" Haruhi jibed as she stood up.

"Only slightly?" Nekozawa snickered.

"Yeah" she replied smugly, arms crossed over her chest. "Sorry to disappoint, but you don't seem like the type of guy who'd genuinely slip something into someone's drink. Unless it was your own drink and it was vodka, I suppose. But anyway, sure, I can do that."

Haruhi sat down again, across from Nekozawa around a small folding table which would serve as their impromptu soothsaying surface. Nekozawa finished the tea he had been drinking and roughly cleaned out the cup with a grungy tablecloth, making Haruhi hoped she wouldn't have to drink the tea as part of the ceremony. He then borrowed a pinch of some doubtlessly priceless variety of tea from one of Reiko's carafes when she wasn't looking and sprinkled it into the teacup. Next, he poured out a portion of water into the cup from the club's Zojirushi water heater. In the back of her mind, Haruhi found it intriguing how the water didn't need to be heated via a wood fire or kettle or something like that. Modern appliances apparently didn't seem to interfere with the success of this particular ritual.

"Now what?"

"Now, you drink" Nekozawa grinned. "Not all of it, though. Leave a small amount of tea in the base of the cup."

"Ugh. Couldn't you have used a clean tablecloth?"

"I could have but didn't" he said. "Drink up."

Fortunately, the tea tasted of floral notes and not dirty fabric. Still, Haruhi couldn't feel that the bouquet was wasted on her commoner's tastebuds. And as instructed, she was careful to leave a bit of the murky liquid.

"Okay, now let's see what the spirits or gods or Reptilians or whatever are saying today. Hopefully they're in a good mood" Nekozawa said, taking the cup from her and setting it on the table. "Each little blotch left by the unconsumed tea leaves is a particular symbol which means something. If it's on the rim, the symbol is in relation to the present, the midsection denotes the near future, and the bottom refers to events that won't occur until way down the line."

"So. What symbols do you see?" Haruhi asked. She was frankly more than a bit cynical in regards to the validity of this ceremony, but she did try to keep an open mind. Most of the time.

"You see that thing shaped like a link of chain, near the very lip of the cup?" he asked of her.

And just like that, the forced suspension of her usual logicality was gone.

"All I see is-dude, are you sure this isn't basically a supernatural version of the Rorschach ink blot test?"

"Shut up, it's definitely a chain. Yeah, that's a chain. Definitely a chain" he corrected her. "Anyhow, the chain-link signifies personal responsibility and a series of connected events."

"Huh."

"Now, this one here, this is interesting" he said, sounding a little more animated than his usual dry apathy, at least. "See that heart?"

"Kinda. That one's a little more distinct."

"I'm sure you figured this yourself, but that one means that in the forthcoming future you'll find love."

"Pffft. Not bloody likely, dude" Haruhi snickered. She had always figured herself to be the type of girl who would end up single until she was an old woman, living alone in a cramped apartment with twenty-six cats.

"There's also what looks like a knotted rope" he said, continuing without missing a step. Haruhi figured he had probably performed this ritual for skeptical relatives and friends before. Plus, Umehito in general was just the sort of guy who let scorn bounce right off his pale, sneering face.

"It actually looks more like a vague-"

"That means anxiety or stress" he said, bringing his mischievous eyes in line with hers.

"Well, I'll admit, you got me there" Haruhi said, rubbing her head in defeat.

"And a boat. Huh" he said, stroking his chin as he spoke.

"I'll bite" she sighed. After all, to Haruhi the boat looked more like a random cluster of soggy tea leaves than a proper boat. "What does that quote-unquote 'boat' mean?"

"A friend will come to visit you soon."

"I see" she responded flatly, conspicuously looking at the time on her cheap dollar-store watch.

"If you were any more jaded you'd be a green gemstone" he chuckled. "Next up, also in the near future…huh, the wave or 'water' symbol. Which can mean unity, travel, _or_ interrupted travel. Or sex, actually."

" _What?!"_ Haruhi asked as her face briefly turned crimson. "Uh, dude, can we stop this right here? We're getting into a whole weird area here."

"If you insist" he smiled.

Nekozawa leaned back from his kneeling position before arching forwards, absentmindedly dipping his pinkie finger into the mostly-drank cup of tea and tasting it. This freaked Haruhi out a little until she remembered that foreigners didn't really subscribe to the whole "indirect kiss" thing.

"Hey, why don't you do yourself?" she asked after an awkward silence.

"I beg your pardon?" a slightly astonished Nekozawa responded.

"At tea reading I mean" she clarified. "Damn."

"Oh, right" he mumbled. "Um, I guess I can. It's a little unorthodox, but sure."

Nekozawa went through the same motions he had gone through in preparing Haruhi's ritual, although she noticed he used a handkerchief to clean out the cup this time. After he had drank most of the liquid, he gazed into the cup.

"I'm not sure how valid this is, but here goes. Aight, first off, around the rim there's two signs. One is a wheel." To Nekozawa's credit it did look kind of like a wheel, if you squinted at it, sideways, after a night of heavy drinking and severe head injuries. "The wheel, as in inevitable change and progress. That's promising. The other is the sun. Energy, a fresh start, rejuvenation, _raw power, success_. Okay, so this is off to a good outset."

"Hmm" a skeptical Haruhi smiled. "I can see why people get hooked on scam psychics telling them what they wanna hear."

"Yeah, yeah" Umehito said with a dismissive wave. "Next we look to the near future and we see-oh, ohhhh, that's not good. Ants."

"Ew, dude! I drank from that!"

"No, no, in the-I mean in the symbol. The 'ants' symbol."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Ants, as in a proverbial coming storm, and possibly supernatural difficulties" he muttered.

"What else do you see?" Haruhi inquired.

Umehito peered into the cup, brow furrowed in concentration. To Haruhi's eyes she was watching a man make his own fate. But really, she supposed, through our actions that was what we all did at the end of the day. Nekozawa was just being a little more direct in his approach.

"Three other signs in the near future. The symbol which means 'female', which in turn means something involving a woman. Pretty vague. It usually refers to love, but it can be something else. There's also a bowl, as in the season of summer or possibly a vessel. That's….not very helpful." He paused briefly, and it might have been her imagination but Haruhi thought he was trying to mask a genuinely troubled expression. "Plus I can make out a cross, either meaning that I will go through a trial, or that my life is in danger. And in the distant future there's only one sign I can see, and it's….heh. Heheheh. Oh my."

"What?" Haruhi asked. She didn't know why she was dreading what he might see in the cup, since she didn't believe in any of this stuff. She was pretty sure she didn't, anyway.

"See that?" he asked. "You can't tell me you don't see that."

" _True enough_ ", Haruhi thought. Indeed, plainly visible was the "hippies, flowers, and good karma" peace symbol.

"Very interesting" he smirked. "That peace sign, my friend, means that one day I will find some measure of tranquility."

Nekozawa leaned in close to Haruhi. He had noticed she had been a little swept up in the reading despite herself.

"What now do you suppose all these varying signs and symbols could mean?" he hushed. It must have been her imagination, but the lighting in whatever room they were in seemed to go down whenever he spoke like that.

"No idea" she admitted.

"Wanna know something funny?" he asked, a curve of his smile taking over his lips.

"Sure, I could go for a laugh" Haruhi said, smiling too, even with the odd sort of implied severity of all that had just happened. "What?"

"You say you don't know what our fortunes signify, and Haruhu, Haruhi, _Haruhi_ , I don't have the slightest inkling either."


	9. They Still Have Those Things

**B as in Blackmail**

 **Part Nine – They Still Have Those Things**

"Ugh, I'm borrrrrrred. Bored-bored-bored."

Mei Yasumura rolled her body from side to side on the Fujioka abode's couch, legs kicking disinterestedly in the air. As she flicked dirt off her nails for want of anything better to do, the spray-tanned girl was the perfect picture of apathy. Haruhi had given up trying to entertain her best friend and was sitting on the floor, browsing the web with that half-broken laptop which she just couldn't bring herself to throw out yet. The only sound asides from Mei's whining were the three electric fans which were trying in vain to compensate for a broken AC system on a brutally hot summer day. The chirping of cicadas is one of those things that can drive you insane given enough time, and on day three of the heat wave even a person as rational as Haruhi was starting to get a little antsy.

"If you don't like it you can go home" her host stated simply. "And could you not lie on that couch? It's brand new."

Haruhi hadn't meant it to sound quite so snappy with her suggestion, but in her mind it only made sense. After all, there was really no obligation for Mei to remain. She hadn't even bothered to text and say she'd be by this Saturday, so the onus wasn't on Haruhi to make sure Mei had something to do. If Haruhi had to guess, Mei's dad had probably arranged some quality time with his daughter that said daughter wanted no part in. Not like it was any of her business, she supposed.

"It doesn't help that you're a boring person by default" Mei said, sitting upright on the couch and fanning herself overstatedly. "I'm so borrred with all this boringness."

"Yeah" Haruhi mumbled. She closed the laptop's case, lulling the ancient beast of a computing device back to sleep, or sleep mode, rather. "Just repeat it eleven billion more times, because it certainly isn't getting old."

Haruhi Fujioka was getting ridiculously overheated and sweaty in her track suit. She made a mental note to check the weather report from now on before getting dressed this summer. After retreating into the bathroom briefly, she re-emerged a minute later wearing shorts and a tank top. It took a second for her to realize it, but Mei seemed to be giving her a disapproving look.

"What's up?"

"You know what part of a stylin' gal like myself having you as a friend makes sense?" Mei inquired of Haruhi.

"No" she said with a prolonged sigh.

"Me neither" Mei grinned.

"Huh. You know what part of your outfit doesn't make you look like a whore?"

"No-HEY! That's so mean" she laughed. "I swear it's like you've been corrupted or something."

"Oh dear. Then I guess it's already starting." The way Haruhi spoke was offhand, as if it were a trifling detail, although it nonetheless piqued Mei's interest.

"Who's starting what now?"

"I may or may not have been suckered…no, that's not the right word. Bamboozled? Blackmailed!" Haruhi said with a snap of the fingers. "Right, so I may or may not have been extorted into joining a weird thing at school."

"Heh. Just so long as it's not some weirdo religious cult."

"…"

"Haruhi?"

"…"

It was at this point that Haruhi switched from staring numbly into the distance to gazing directly into Mei's eye sockets, knowingly and more than a little creepily since she didn't so much as blink the entire time. It took a full thirty-odd seconds before Mei realized she wasn't going to win this game of chicken any time soon.

"Uh, I uh, think I'll leave. I'd rather take my chances with Misuzu right now."

It may have been that Nekozawa was indeed touched by a bit of precognition in his decision to prepare for the cultural festival early. Or at least, that was certainly true from Haruhi's perspective, since for her the remaining twenty-three days leading up to said festival breezed by like after-movie credits. And now here she was, sitting on a chair in front of a bar-style table within the Black Magic clubroom, upon which was placed an appropriately antique model of cash register.

The partition that usually served as a modesty curtain for those changing from their occult outfits had been reappropriated, and was now serving to hide a mountain of all the spare tapestries and rugs and bolts of cloth that ordinarily littered the ground, not unlike potential landmines which could have easily tripped someone in the ill-lit chamber. On that note, additional lighting had been "requisitioned" (aka taken without technically asking permission) from one of the staff lounges in a daring after-school raid. In a bit of an emulation of normalcy, most of the more alarming curios, eldritch monsters, and Satanic artifacts had been relegated to the darker corners of the room where they were unlikely to alarm potential customers. Some of the less macabre of Takai Tanso's paintings had also been temporarily relocated from his house to provide additional decoration.

"So, does everyone remember their roles?" Takai asked.

To her credit, Haruhi knew what hers was. She'd been smart enough to ask for something that wasn't too involved, and would be in charge of the cash register as well as managing the profits once all was said and done. In addition, she would assist Reiko in making sure the portions of loose leaf tea were evenly distributed in case there was a sudden influx of customers. Hopefully it would be the sort of work she could go on mental autopilot while carrying out; Haruhi wasn't absentminded, but she was a proficient daydreamer.

"We have roles?" Itazura asked.

"So help me, if you aren't joking I'm going to dump a quart of scalding hot water on your crotch right now" Takai replied through gritted teeth as he checked on the tea kettle. He seemed to grind his chompers so much that Haruhi paused to wonder if he had any of his original enamel left by now.

"Having a bad day?" Itazura asked, clearly taking some delight in further needling him.

"Not until now, actually."

"Good, because we're opening in…" Nekozawa began as he looked at his watch before falling silent.

"Opening? Opening when, dare I ask?" Ippan asked.

"Well, to tell the truth we've been open since a little under two hours ago, to be truthful" he sheepishly acknowledged. Nekozawa was in his element when he had a given scenario locked and under control. Right now, it was apparent he'd dropped the ball and had no clue how to recover the fumble. Less like a pro football player and more like a meth addict flailing wildly at the controller buttons for an NFL video game, in other words.

"Maybe that's a good thing" Haruhi said. Her statement seemed to surprise the others a touch.

"Haruhi…did you just have a stroke or something? How in the love of fuck is a tearoom with no customers a successful venture?" the club leader queried.

"Because screw you. Okay, actually I was thinking it was more-" Haruhi began. Before she even had a chance to elaborate on her proposition that having no customers would give them what was essentially a day off school, however, she in turn was cut off by a helium-voiced giggle from down the corridor leading to the club room.

"Wait." Itazaura said. " _Wait_ , I recognize that voice. But why…the _hell_ …"

There was more than one person coming down this way, too, to judge from the sound of quite a few dissimilarly paced footsteps. In short order a tall young man with glasses, an almost regal air to his smirk, and an impeccable posture opened the ebony-wood doors. The total sum of their guests were six pretty-boys, easily equal or superior to the club's own resident bishie Itazura in their beauty. Two appeared to be twins (one of whom Haruhi realized was the bastard who'd directed her down here as a "good place to study" a few months back), there was some tall guy who looked to be epitome of "strong and silent", a hyperactive midget was sticking close to him who looked more ready for elementary school or possibly kindergarten, there was the aforementioned tall megane, and a very beautiful, possibly mixed race youth was trailing behind the rest. He looked like he was either nervous as all hell or experiencing some very bad indigestion. Or both, maybe.

"Ah. Hello Itazura" Kyoya said to the boy in question. It struck Haruhi as a bit odd that he would greet Itazura before the club prez, but the reason became apparent a moment later when Kyoya continued with, "As always, the door is open for you to join our little social club at any time. We don't expect you to quit this one, of course, seeing as it clearly brings you so much enjoyment."

"I'm sure he appreciates the offer, Oohtori" Nekozawa said. "But, I feel confident in saying he's spoken for."

"And hello, Nekozawa" Kyoya said with a polite nod. "Fancy seeing you here."

" _Of course I'm here, you dip, this is my clubroom_ " Nekozawa thought, although he wasn't stupid enough to actually voice such a thought. Instead he nodded back and said "And I'm sure that anyone in our fine school would say that it's an _honour_ for the entire Host Club to grace us with their presence. What's the occasion?"

" _Did you forget you're running a club event_?", Kyoya thought, although he instead stated, "I understand you're running a bit of a tearoom, aren't you? We're taking a break from our own event, just wandering the halls, and one of our member in particular was getting bored of all the…how did you phrase it exactly, Hunny?"

"Stuffy stuff. It's all stuffy and hoity-toity" Hunny said unenthusiastically.

"Yes, he was getting weary of the 'stuffy' events we'd been visiting. We saw your fliers…it was an interesting stylistic choice to use predominantly red and black colours. Very eye-grabbing. Anyway, we figured a tearoom might be interesting, particularly if there were-"

"Sooooooo, d'you have any candy or baked things?" Hunny said, hopping up and down like a sugar-crazed bunny rabbit, or possibly a Muppet being operated by someone on a caffeine high, kicking up a cloud of dust in the process. "Turkish delights? Muffins? Crumpets? Strumpets?"

"'Strumpets'?" Nekozawa asked, curbing a smile. "Heh. No, no sweets, I'm afraid. Just tea. Sorry to disappoint."

Hunny visibly deflated, and Haruhi's alarm when he subsequently flopped to the floor only subsided when one of the twins gave her a look that indicated this was indeed normal. If anything could be said to pass for "normal" at Ouran.

"Oh, but Suoh?" Umehito asked after a brief pause.

"Uh-heh? Yeah?" Tamaki asked, nervously jabbing a finger at himself, an uncertain and very forced half-smile on his face. He'd been hoping to avoid conversing with the fellow foreigner during this little interval. Unfortunately for Tamaki, people like Nekozawa who were good at blending into the crowd were usually also very good at spotting amateurs trying to attempt the same.

"We are also offering free tea readings" Nekozawa said. "Would you be-"

Although Haruhi couldn't read Nekozawa's expression due to the angle of his cloak, going off Tamaki's reaction to him she surmised that the visage of herclub prez was uncannily like Anakin Skywalker's in the third Star Wars prequel when he'd just succeeded in killing a roomful of small children with his lightsaber.

"No" Tamaki responded very hurriedly.

"Will you at least let me finish my sen-"

"No."

"Hmmm. I see" Nekozawa frowned. "I-"

Haruhi didn't know who this vaguely foreign-looking guy was, but she figured Nekozawa probably shouldn't have even bothered asking him. Actually, it seemed to her that Nekozawa would be a lot happier in general if he'd just stop trying so hard to be some sort of sadistic lord of dark/unholy power.

Also, it seemed that no one was going to let Umehito finish his damn sentences today, because this time it had been Reiko who had cut him short.

"You. What's your name?" she asked, staring rather oddly at Hunny.

"Um. Me?" Hunny asked. "My first name is Mitsukuni, although you can call me Hunny, everyone does. What's your name?"

"Shotacon…" she said inattentively, and it might have been Haruhi's imagination but she thought her glasses were fogging up a little. The way Reiko was clenching and fidgeting with her fists was less than heartening as well.

"Wha-what?" Hunny questioned.

" _Huh. Stranger danger there, Hunny_ " Haruhi mused.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear any of that" Kyoya smiled, clearly trying to hide a mien of cultured disgust. "But Nekozawa, while I'm here, do you have any Chinese black tea?"

"Yes, of course" the club leader replied. "And may I commend you in advance on your excellent taste. I was beginning to think I was the only person in Japan who had a taste for the stuff."

Kyoya paced over to the closest bar stool, sitting himself down and looking about, quite obviously making a conscious effort to take in the décor of the place. He ran his long, thin fingers over the black synthetic counter; a much harsher material than he was used to drinking off of, although he supposed it hardly mattered. One of the nearby paintings, a reprint of the seminal "Satan Devouring his Son", had been overlooked by the club when disturbing artwork was being taken down. Fortunately for the Black Magic Club, Kyoya was actually a fan of Francisco Goya, and for that matter of Italian Romanticism in general.

"I certainly like what you've done here; I hope it attracts many further customers as the day progresses. I'll be sure to recommend your jaunt to any students who come to the host club" Kyoya said to further affirm that he was hardly offended by the somewhat questionable environ he was in. This stood in stark contrast to Tamaki, who was teetering to and fro as if he could faint at any moment. "And yes, then I'll have a pot of black tea. Any strain will do. I'd be thrilled if you and Itazura would join me in enjoying it too, _Umehito_."

"Sounds more than agreeable to me, _Kyoya_ " Nekozawa grinned.

"Yeah, I've got nothing better to do" Itazura assented.

"Alright then" Nekozawa went on. "Haruhi? Ring up the receipt. Reiko, will you-Reiko?"

"…"

Reiko's glassy-eyed stare that was lapping its way all over an uncomfortable Hunny like a huge tongue, her heavy fangirl wheezing, the dollop of drool on her lower lip, and her complete unawareness of the fact that she was being addressed were worrying, definitely.

"Reiko? Hello?"

"She's off in lala land, I guess" Takai informed him, perhaps a bit unnecessarily. "Don't worry, I'll prepare a pot of Jin Junmei."

As Nekozwa took a seat at the bar-type counter with Kyoya and Itazura, Haruhi observed that their visitor seemed to be focusing the lion's share of his attention on Itazura. She faintly recalled what Kyoya had said earlier, about Itazura being welcome to join his club. After mulling it over for a half-minute or so, she decided to make a further enquiry into that.

"Psst. Yo, Takai" Haruhi asked as she leaned in close to the clubmate in question while he savoured the aroma of the bubbling tea. Ever-astute Haruhi had noted previously that Takai Tansoh was most at peace when he was busying his hands with some sort of honest work, whether it was sharpening a blade, boiling tea, reading a book, or swinging a punch at Ippan.

"Yes? How can I help you?" he asked her. He didn't bother to look at her, choosing to devote his full focus to his daydreaming as he hummed the melody of "What Happened to You?".

"What sort of club do our guests belong to?" Haruhi asked, as unobtrusively as she could manage.

Takai gave her a knowing look, which pissed her off a little since he hadn't exactly answered her question. He then stared at the whistle of steam coming out of the kettle for a while longer before answering.

"Heh. It's a host club."

"They still have those things?" Haruhi asked, a little amused.

"Yeah. Frankly I'm a bit surprised the school allowed it. Or maybe I shouldn't be. That blond-haired moron over there, the one looking about as calm and collected as a vegan in a McDonald's, he's the son of the chairman."

"Really now" Haruhi said. She was more than a little curious now.

"Yeah. Tamaki Suoh is his name. Umehito's always man-crushing over him. Kinda gay if you ask me" he simpered.

"Isn't calling a man-crush 'gay' a little redundant?" she asked. The conversation had gone horribly off-course now, but Fujioka had already gotten the answer to her initial question so she didn't really care.

"Well, no, because the way I understand it an ordinary man-crush is defined as when a completely straight male has feelings for-"

"You _do_ realize all three of us can hear you, right Takai?" Itazura asked from over at the table, not even bothering to look over his shoulder as he spoke.

"Gah! Sorry, sorry!" Takai stammered.

"I don't think Itazura's the one you should be apologizing to" Nekozawa said, although he sounded more amused than pissed.

After Takai had finished dispensing the Jin Junmei in three extra-large teacups, he sulked back over to the shadows so as to avoid drawing further attention to himself. Haruhi hoped she wasn't intruding when she gravitated over to him again. She had another question that was pressing at her, and she felt it would keep eating at the back of her mind like petty worries do until it got answered.

"Just outta curiosity, why did Itazura say he wouldn't join the host club? It's likely a little more glamorous than this place. Is he just that into the occult?"

"Maybe. Don't…", Takai said, switching to a whisper as he beckoned for Haruhi to come in close, "Don't tell anyone I told you this. Okay? But, I heard that Itazura told Kyoya he 'couldn't do that to the girls', or something like that. Since then Kyoya's been nothing if not persistent, and Nekozawa and him have butted heads over this many times. Not in a vicious sort of way or anything, mind you, but Nekozawa clearly doesn't want Itazura to get distracted from the Black Magic club and get seduced away to the dark side. Er, the darker side."

"What the heck does that mean?" Haruhi asked perplexedly.

"I don't have any damn idea" Takai sighed. "But look at him over there, with Umehito and Kyoya. Doesn't he look like the most sociable and easygoing one present? It would have been a good fit for him, definitely."

"Huh" Haruhi replied, and as the gears began to turn she continued a moment later with, "So I take it that Kyoya's the prez of the host club?"

"In all but name only" Kyoya said to Haruhi, startling her a little.

She looked back over at him, and he was raising his teacup in a toast to her, wearing that same damn omnipresent smile on his face that never seemed to go away. In Haruhi's mind, that meant that he was either always happy or some kind of sexual degenerate, since the only other person she really knew who grinned like that all the time was e'er-pervy Ippan. Well, and Nekozawa, but his leer was obviously more _intentionally_ directed to scare people.

He frowned, and she briefly wondered if their guest could read minds.

"Oh, don't mind me" Kyoya said. "It's just a pet peeve of mine when people talk about me behind my back. And I have a sixth sense for when someone is saying my name. But actually, and this is very off-topic admittedly, while I'm here I do have a bit of a proposition."

"I'm listening" Nekozawa said as he looked at Kyoya impishly.

"It occurred to me just right now, right here, so I don't want you to think I had ulterior motives in coming down here. How would you feel about a bit of a…how do I put this, a bit of a co-club event? If Itazura is keen on remaining a member of your Black Magic Club exclusively, it would seem to be the next best thing from my perspective. And it would doubtless benefit your own club greatly in turn, if you're willing to hear me out."


End file.
